The Things We Hide
by songstress42
Summary: After Sam confronts Dean about his issues, Dean's latent feelings for Cas come to light. As well as a painful secret from Dean's past. Follows 7x07 'The Mentalists'. Rated for some swearing and references to rape. Eventual Destiel. Now rated M
1. Chapter 1

"_Do you know and Eleanor or an Ellen?"_

"_She seems quite concerned for you. She want's to tell you, pardon me, 'If you don't tell someone how bad it really is, she'll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.'"_

…

He could still hear them, the words rattling around in his head as though Ellen herself had spoken them and not the creepy tour guide who'd grabbed Dean's arm without his say so. No man grabbed Dean without his permission. Except Sam and Bobby and, until recently, Cas.

But he'd told Sam, told him about how he 'felt'. He'd said enough to placate his brother, like he always did, so why were those words still rolling around in his head?

_How bad it really is._

_You have to trust someone again eventually._

Dean shifted and shook his head as though trying to mentally wipe the thought away like an etch-a-sketch before his overly observant, pain in the ass, nosey little brother could catch on. She couldn't have meant _that_ right? Not _that_. There was no way he was ever telling Sam about…_that_.

He felt eyes on him and glanced over to see Sam frowning at him.

"What?" he asked in his usual overly caustic tone that enhanced rather than hid the fact that everything was not okay.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Words could not describe how much he hated being asked that question, especially by Sam because he of all people ought to know that no, Dean was not 'okay'. Dean hadn't been 'okay' in years, decades. The last time Dean had truly been okay, his mother had been tucking him in and telling him that angels were watching over him.

So he did what he always did when asked that question: rolled his eyes and said in terse tones.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam looking at him with his 'yeah right' face.

"Yeah right Dean." He said.

Dean's fists tightened on the steering wheel of the blue Dodge Challenger.

"Look, will you just drop it? I apologized for ganking Amy and I explained why. Isn't that enough?"

"No! Not when you look like you still got stuff to get off your chest."

_How bad it really is._

Den could feel it. Everything. All the emotional crap that he'd spent his life pushing down wanting to rise up and spill out like a tidal wave of…feelings.

His hands shook where they clutched the steering wheel. He could feel his brother's gaze on him like a spotlight. He could hear that guy's voice in his head, although it was starting to sound more like Ellen now. He could hear Bobby telling him he was being an idjit for not dealing with his crap. He could see Cas' eyes lit with holy fire as he stared at Dean as though Dean had been the betrayer. He remembered his dad…

The breaks squealed as Dean pulled the car onto the empty shoulder of the road and stepped out, slamming he door behind him as he stalked off towards the woods that lined the empty highway, feeling as though if he stayed any longer he would explode. Vaguely, he registered the slamming of the passenger door that meant Sam had gotten out of the car too.

"Come on Dean, just talk to me!"

"I'm fine Sam, will you just let it go?!"

"No!" Sam caught up and grabbed Dean and swung him round to face him.

Dean threw Sam's hands off him but stayed facing his younger brother. He brought a hand up to rub at his tired eyes, dark circles indicating his exhausted state. Sam did not need to be sleeping in the same room as his brother to know that Dean was not sleeping well. Not that his brother ever slept well, but his usual four hours had diminished down to one or two over the past few months and Sam was at the end of his rope. Dean may be a stubborn jackass but Sam was cut from the same cloth as his brother and he was going to get Dean to open up about what was bothering him if he had to drag it from him.

"Dean, you need to talk about what's wrong," He ignored Dean's scoff, "You can't just ignore it and expect it to go away! You can't keep going on like this!"

"Of course I can Sammy," Dean retorted, "I've been doing it my whole damn life!"

Sam let out a frustrated huff and ran his hands through his hair.

"Well, maybe that's the problem."

Dean's face screwed up into a look of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam sighed.

"Just that, maybe if you actually talked about what you're feeling instead of pushing it down, you might end up feeling better for once."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Please Sam, no chick flick moments."

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"What about when you came back from hell." When Dean pinned him with a dark look, Sam knew he was walking on thin ice. "Just, when you came back and you were drinking a lot and having nightmares and then you finally talked about it and it seemed to get better right?"

Dean's look was still dark but Sam could see he was at least contemplating it. Dean sighed and brought his hand to his mouth as he thought about what his brother was saying.

Dimmit! Why'd Sammy have to be so smart and logical all the time it was fucking annoying as hell!

As Sam continued to glare at him with his patented bitch face, Dean felt the weight of the past few, well decades settle on his shoulders and weigh him down. He felt exhausted, not only physically, but mentally. This is why he didn't confront his demons, they were so many and not the type that were easy to get rid of with a simple exorcism or Ruby's knife. These were the type of demons Dean was really, truly afraid of: The ones he couldn't fight.

Sam cut off his train of thought with two quiet words.

"Please Dean."

Dean looked up at his brother to find that Sam's bitch face had been replaced by his pleading face. The face that meant Dean would be sleeping on the couch because the motel room Dad got only had two beds or that Dean would be going without supper because there was only enough food left for one of them. It was the face that Dean couldn't say no to thanks to the endless mantra of _look after Sam; keep Sam safe _that echoed in his head in their Dad's voice. It was the central tenant of his existence and had been ever since the night John Winchester handed the six-month-old Sam to the four year old Dean and told him to _take your brother and go!_

Dean sighed again, deflating under the combined weight of his thoughts and Sam's powers of persuasion, and moved to lean against this week's car, pulling the silver flask from his pocket and taking a long pull. If he was going to have this conversation, he was going to need some help from an old friend.

Sam moved to his brother's side, at once happy and terrified. Glad that his brother had finally agreed to open up and scared about what he was going to say. He had a feeling that getting Dean to open up was going to be like opening the Arc of the Covenant: they may not escape this unscathed.

Dean fiddled with the flask, his hands keeping busy as his mind decided where to start.

He cleared his throat.

"Umm, I don't really know how–where to start."

Sam nodded.

"Right, well…okay how about…well you mentioned Cas before." Dean's wince at the mention of the fallen angel did not escape Sam's notice. "How about we start with how you feel about what happened."

Dean glared at Sam and it took every ounce of his will power not to roll his eyes, scoff out a thinly veiled homophobic remark, and make a beeline for the nearest bar to drink away his feelings like he was taught to do by his father. Instead he cleared his throat and looked off into the forest that surrounded them and thought back to the angel whose coat sat in the trunk of the blue Dodge. He hadn't been able to leave it behind when they'd had to ditch his baby.

"How do I feel?" He asked with a bitter laugh, trying to mask the fact that a lump was forming in his throat, "I dunno. Just between his betrayal and trying to be God, breaking your wall and then walking into that reservoir. I mean…I know that he was sorry for what he did. I could see it in his eyes at the end. But that doesn't change how painful it was…how betrayed I felt. It was like you and Ruby all over again you know?"

Sam felt a strong jolt of shame at the mention of his actions from three years before.

Dean felt hot tears burning, threatening to overflow but he was damned if he was going to cry like a girl. He swallowed and cleared his throat not daring to look at his brother, not daring to let him see this weakness.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, "Did…"

He trailed off, biting his lip and hoping that what he was about to say wouldn't send his emotionally constipated brother running.

"Were you…in love…with Cas?"

Sam felt Dean stiffen beside him and he snuck a sidelong glance at his brother.

Dean was frozen in what Sam might describe as fear had he not known his brother as well as he did.

"Dean?" Sam asked when his brother stayed silent.

"I…" Dean began to speak but trailed off his breaths coming in shorter and shorter gasps.

Sam brought his hand up to rest on Dean's shoulder but as soon as he made contact Dean jumped and began backing away from Sam in a frantic scramble, arms wrapping around his torso in a gesture of self comfort and protection, and Sam could see that Dean was well and truly terrified. His brother who had been hunting monsters since before he was old enough to hold a gun was shaking in fear.

He held his hands out in a pacifying gesture and began to move slowly toward his brother.

"Dean, it's alright."

Dean stopped moving and closed his eyes, desperately trying to calm his erratic breathing as a few tears fell unbidden from his eyes. He heard Sam moving slowly towards him and he opened his eyes to meet those of his brother's, which were creased in worry and no wonder since apparently Dean was falling apart right before his eyes.

"It's okay."

Dean closed his eyes again, this time in building anger.

"No it's not," he said in frustration as he tried desperately to control himself.

"Yes it is." Sam said firmly and reached out to brother. Dean once again threw his arm off, turning away and stalking off a few feet, his back turned to his brother.

"Dean whatever you're afraid of, it doesn't matter to me. I don't care if you had feelings for Cas, or any other guy for that matter! You're still my brother and I love you!"

Dean stood still, shoulders hunched, arms still wrapped around himself in a self hug.

"It's not okay," he said in a voice so soft Sam almost didn't hear it.

He turned and Sam could see that he was no longer angry. Sam stared at his big brother, the person who had always been there for him even when he didn't want or deserve it, the person who had practically raised him, and realized that he had never seen him look so small or so scared.

Sam moved forwards and once again reached out for his brother. This time Dean didn't throw him off.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Sam sighed and tried to imagine how Dean might be thinking. Obviously, the sudden emergence of homosexual urges from a guy as straight as Dean would be traumatic. But Sam couldn't figure out why Dean was so terrified of the prospect of having feelings for a guy. Furthermore, though Sam may have been the more open and emotionally healthy one of the two brothers, he never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would be having _this_ conversation with his older brother and he didn't exactly know where to start.

Sam swallowed. It didn't matter how he felt. All that mattered was helping Dean.

"Look Dean, It doesn't matter alright? It doesn't matter to me if you had feelings for Cas. Or any guy. I don't think any less of you, I know Bobby wouldn't care and I'm sure Dad—" At the mention of John Winchester Dean's eyes snapped open and his fearful glance told Sam that he'd hit a nerve. "Is this about what Dad would think?" Dean swallowed and looked away, "Because I'm sure he would have loved you just the same."

Dean closed his eyes again and his voice was so quiet Sam nearly missed it.

"He didn't."

At Dean's words, a cold chill settled uncomfortably in Sam's stomach.

"What do you mean he didn't?"

Dean's expression told Sam that his big brother had hoped Sam hadn't heard what he'd just said. But both brothers knew the cat was out of the bag and there was no way Sam was letting this go until he'd gotten the truth. Dean sighed a bone weary sigh and moved back towards the car, turning when he reached it and settling in the dirt on the ground, leaning back against it. Sam followed suit and sat next to his brother; close enough to give support but not so close that Dean would feel smothered.

The two boys sat in silence as Dean gathered the strength to reveal one of his most closely guarded secrets and Sam gave his brother the time he needed.

"My um…feelings…for Cas…weren't the first I've had for…a guy." Dean began slowly, avoiding eye contact with his brother. "When I was I guess ten or eleven, I found myself…drawn to certain guys, on TV or at school. At first I didn't really understand what it was or what it meant. I mean, there wasn't much in the way of education and Dad well…" Dean trailed off, his fingers digging in the earth at his side, pulling up tufts of grass and pulling them apart.

"Slowly, I guess through TV and general gut instinct, I started to figure out what those…tendencies meant." Dean chuckled darkly, "I'd never been so terrified and alone when I finally realized that I was…" Dean trailed off again, the word caught in his throat. Still after all these years he couldn't vocalize it. His secret, hidden deep down, buried in a vain belief that if it could be ignored and forgotten it could go away, cease to be. He took a shuddering breath and sniffed, wiping another errant tear away.

"You remember when we were living in Ohio? In '94? I was fifteen, you were twelve?"

Sam nodded, they'd settled down in Milford, just outside of Cincinnati and he'd enjoyed living there before John had abruptly announced they were leaving one evening a few months in.

"There was this guy at the school there. A senior. Mike Oberman. He and I…I guess we were going through the same thing. We hung out a lot. You were starting to…resent my hovering; you'd go the library after school or to a friend's house so I found myself alone with Mike a lot. Neither of us really knew what we were doing or feeling but it was nice not to feel so alone."

Sam could see fondness in his brother's eyes as he talked about Mike, his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile.

"Then one day, Dad came home unexpectedly. He was supposed to be away on a hunt but he'd managed to wrap it up early and he walked in on Mike and me…" Dean swallowed, his breath quickening as he relived the memory. "We were just making out, but Dad…he freaked. At first he was angry, yelling and throwing stuff. Mike got out of there fast, I never saw him again after that. And then he just stopped and he got real quiet which was somehow worse than the screaming and throwing. He asked where you were and when I said the library…he said 'so you're ditching out on your duty of taking care of your brother to go whoring around with the local faggots?' And then he just kept at it. Calling me every name he could think of, saying he raised me to be a man, not some faggot-fairy," Dean voice began to break, "Saying mom would be ashamed of me and for once he was glad she was dead so she didn't have to see what her son turned out to be."

Sam had his head in his hands, hating John Winchester more than he ever had during his time at Stanford but at the mention of Mary, Sam turned to Dean and grabbed his shoulder.

"That's bullshit! You know that! Mom would never be ashamed of you, of either of us, for something like that! Dad was just an asshole. A giant, worthless asshole who ruined our lives by dragging us along on his personal vendetta against the man who killed his wife, all the while ignoring the only things he had left of her: us!"

Dean continued to stare at the ground as Sam tried to reason with him. The problem was though that despite the truth in Sam's words, Dean could not let go of the shame and guilt that those words of John's had burnt into his soul, shame and guilt he still carried with him.

Sam sighed and leant back against the car. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean fidgeting, as though he had more to say. Sam turned hid gaze to his brother.

"Did he do anything else?"

Dean's fearful gaze verified his suspicions.

Sam sat up and turned to Dean.

"What? What did he do?"

Dean swallowed and shuffled a few inches away from Sam's crowding form.

"He…after he was through calling me every name he could think of, he left. He was gone a couple of hours and when he got back…It was obvious he'd been to the bar. He stumbled in and I was sitting on the couch, I'd been there the whole time he'd been gone. I turned and he had this look in his eyes and I got scared. Real scared Sammy." Dean's gaze was far away and his voice was quiet, "He grabbed me and dragged me to the bedroom and threw me down on the bed," Dean swallowed, "and he said…" Dean licked his trembling lips as his mouth went dry, "He said that if that's what I wanted then that's what I'd get."

Both brothers were silent as Sam tried to come to terms with the implications of what Dean had revealed.

"Dean are you saying that Dad…that he…"

Dean sat with his elbows resting on his bended knees, his hands in his hair unable to look at his brother as shame painted his features red.

"It was so painful Sammy." Sam had never heard his brother sound so young, so lost, "It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. Forty years in hell can't compare to how I felt in that moment."

Sam felt like throwing up. He'd never gotten along well with his father but never would he have though the man capable of this. Hesitantly he reached out a hand to rest on Dean's shoulder. His brother stiffened but did not throw him off.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off, not knowing what to say. He could feel his brother's strong form shaking violently under his hand and he tugged gently at his brother's shoulder. Dean lowered his hand enough to cast a hesitant glance at his brother.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered lamely, not knowing what else to say, then he added, "I'm glad you told me."

Dean's expression screwed up into one of confusion.

"Why?" he asked almost silently.

"Because you're my brother, and I love you." Dean let out a half-hearted snort of laughter.

"I thought I said no chick-flick moments." he replied in a tumbling voice.

"Oh I think we're way beyond that." Sam threw back and was pleased that it had the desired effect of pushing his brother's shaky mirth into full-blown laughter. Until that laughter devolved into tears.

Sam once again tugged on his brother's shoulder until he willingly slid sideways into Sam's embrace, and the tears that he had been holding in for nearly twenty years finally came flooding forth. Sam sat and held his brother as Dean grieved for the last shred of innocence that had been brutally ripped from him by his father.

…

When Dean's sobs had died down, Sam helped his brother to his feet and guided him to the passenger side door. It was disturbing to him how submissive his normally recalcitrant brother was but at least it made getting him into the car easier.

It wasn't until they were back on the main road that Dean became aware enough of his surroundings to ask, "Where are we going?"

"The cabin" Sam said, glancing sideways to gauge Dean's reaction. He hoped he wouldn't have to drag Dean there. Dean could be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch when he wanted to be. But he merely shrugged and leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Dean's apathy scared Sam more than anything else could have. He was used to butting heads with a brother who was as stubborn as a particularly obstinate mule. He was used to fighting tooth and nail for his way.

He was not used to Dean just giving in.

They definitely needed Bobby for this.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive took a day and a half during which Dean didn't say a word.

Bobby was knee deep in dead end Leviathan research when the boys showed up. After exchanging terse pleasantries, Bobby surveyed the boys he'd come to consider his own. It always sent up a red flag when they showed up without calling ahead of time. He scrutinized the brothers as they entered the cabin. The first thing that he noticed was that Sam was pocketing the keys, which meant that Sam had been driving.

Dean never let Sam drive.

Sam himself looked particularly worried as he ushered his unusually quiet brother into the building.

Bobby moved his gaze to the older Winchester. His normally animated face was blank. Like some part of his personality was…absent.

Bobby ground his teeth. The hunter's life was not and easy one. Horrors were part of the everyday in lives like theirs. Dean's approach had always been to push anything he didn't want to deal with away and then drink heavily whenever those issues reared their ugly heads.

It looked like one of those issues had finally gotten the better of Dean Winchester.

He made eye contact with the boy but his green eyes were dull and closed off. After a few moments, Dena turned his head and stalked off to the bedroom.

Bobby approached Sam who had dropped their bags on the table and was busy unloading.

"What in the hell happened?" he asked.

Sam's shoulders stiffened and he turned to Bobby, his hazel eyes full of pain and sorrow.

"It's Dean's story to tell." He said simply, turning back to the bag.

When Dean finally emerged from the bedroom, Bobby took one look at him, cracked open the whisky, and turned on the TV. Didn't ask questions, didn't push or pry, just let Dean sit and be, knowing that the stubborn hunter would open up when he was good and ready. And when that time came, Bobby would be there to listen and give what advice was needed and affectionately call him an idjit.

As it turned out, it only took five days for Dean to approach Bobby.

…

Bobby was outside chopping wood when Dean sauntered out of the cabin clutching a bottle of beer like it was a lifeline and loitered in his peripheral vision. Bobby gave him a couple of minutes but when Dean didn't offer up anything, he sunk his axe down into the stump and turned to face the man he'd come to see as his own son.

"One of those had better be for me." He said, gesturing to the six-pack that sat on the ground beside Dean. Dean looked down and nodded before retrieving a bottle and handing it to the old hunter. As they both settled side-by-side leaning back against the outer wall of the cabin, Bobby popped off the cap. He took a pull from the bottle and cleared his throat.

"So, you gonna talk or are we just gonna sit and look at the pretty scenery?"

Dean worried his bottom lip as he played with the bottle in his grasp, twisting it around and pulling at the label.

"Talk about what?"

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Whatever it is that brought you and Sam here near a week ago. Whatever it is that's got you looking like the last puppy left in the store."

Dean glared at the chosen of metaphor but kept his mouth firmly shut. Goddamn but that boy was stubborn.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with losing Cas would it?"

Beside him he felt Dean stiffen and smiled to himself, now they were getting somewhere. When he looked over, Dean was digging into the dirt around his feet.

"Have you finally come to your senses and realized just how much you cared for him?"

Dean's head shot up.

"You knew?!"

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Well I got eyes don't I?"

Dean looked down again and after a few seconds asked almost inaudibly.

"And you…you're…okay with that?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Doesn't much matter to me _who_ you love, guy, girl, Angel of the freekin' Lord. Just so long as you're happy Dean."

To his surprise, Dean did not scoff at the sappy words and stalk off to tinker with the blue muscle car they'd pulled up in. Instead, Bobby watched as tears welled up in the boy's eyes and he began to sense that this went deeper that a sexual crisis over his feelings for Castiel.

"Dean, what is it?" he asked, his voice softer that he even thought possible.

Dean was holding on by a thread, his entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the tears at bay.

"S-so…you wouldn't…you wouldn't care is I was…if I were g…gay?" the last word came out so softly that Bobby nearly didn't catch it. Dean turned his head and looked at Bobby with such fear and pain in his eyes; there was only one person who'd ever scared Dean that much…

"Of course not Dean. Hell, there's so much shit we got to deal with in this life of ours it seems stupid to care about something like that." He brought a hand up to rest on Dean's shoulder. "I consider you my son Dean, and I love you. No matter what."

Those were the words that finally broke down Dean's barriers and a flood of tears poured forth. Bobby pulled the boy towards him into a one armed hug; letting him cry onto his shoulder, like had had when Sam died. Dean cried for a good five minutes and when his sobs finally died down Bobby thought that would be the end of it.

Turns out he was wrong.

"Dad cared."

The words sent a spike of cold fear through the belly of the gruff hinter. John Winchester had been a good man, a good hunter, but he'd had his blind spots and a raging temper especially when he'd been drinking had been a particularly bad one.

"What'd he do Dean?"

Bobby could see Dean's hands shaking and clutching the bottle of beer until they were white. He shot up suddenly, pacing back and forth erratically.

Bobby hauled himself to his feet, cursing his age as his back twinged and knees creaked. Once he was up, he put a hand on Dean's shoulder, ceasing the nauseating movement.

"Hey, hey boy it's alright."

Dean's green eyes rose to meet Bobby's and Bobby was shocked at the depth of pain he saw in them. The shoulder on which his hand rested was rising and falling with Dean's rapidly increasing breaths.

"It's okay." Bobby said emphatically. Slowly the breathing evened out and the fear in his eyes faded to be replaced my embarrassment and shame.

Dean ducked his head and moved away, shrugging out of Bobby's grasp.

"Sorry." He said quietly before turning and taking off into the cabin.

"Dean!" Bobby yelled as he heard the front door slam, "Balls!"

…

Sam looked up from his book when Dean threw open the front door and stormed in looking panicked and afraid. Bobby followed shortly.

"Dean."

"No!" Dean turned and held up a hand, his fear shifting seamlessly into anger.

"Dean." Sam said softly, standing slowly, "It's alright."

"Shut up Sam! Bobby, I don't want to talk about it! I'm not ready alright?!"

"That's fine Dean." Sam said, watching as his brother's ire cooled, "But you know you're going to have to tell Bobby eventually."

Dean glared at his brother and then collapsed on the sofa his head in his hands, his fingers tightening in his hair. Sam moved to sit beside him and Bobby plunked himself down on the coffee table, both a respectable distance away from the agitated hunter.

Dean shook his head.

"I can't Sammy, I can't say it." His anger had died and all that was left was exhaustion and fear and pain clouding his bright green eyes and darkening the circles beneath them.

Sam sighed and caught Bobby's eye.

"Can you tell him?"

The question was asked so quietly Sam nearly didn't hear it but when he looked to where his brother was huddled against the corner of the sofa, his green eyes glistening and so full of pain. Dean never asked for help, never asked for anything for himself.

"What? Are-are you sure?"

Dean swallowed, getting slowly to his feet, his arms snaking around his torso in a protective gesture that was so different from his usual brash bravado. He nodded.

"I just…I just can't Sammy."

And with that he fled the room.

Sam sighed and turned back to Bobby who was glancing between him and the door Dean had just disappeared behind with growing concern in his eyes.

"How far did you get?"

"We talked about Cas and then he mentioned something about your dad."

Sam shook his head and ground his teeth. He'd never seen John Winchester as the great hero that Dean always had. He'd seen him as an obsessive bastard who'd rather spend his time seeking revenge for his wife's death than provide a good and stable home for his sons. Still, the man had sacrificed himself to save Dean's life and Sam had spent the last six years trying to honor his father's memory.

But now…now everything was different. Sam had never had the blind faith in his father that Dean had had, the unnerving belief that John Winchester knew everything, that John Winchester was invincible. Where Dean had seen their dad's strengths, Sam had seen his weaknesses: his obsession, his temper, and his drinking.

Their father had been a mean drunk, never violent, at least not to Sam, but angry. When he drank, he raved and broke things. One time he had even gotten ahold of one of his guns and let a shot off before Dean had managed to disarm him. Sam had no illusions that his father had been a saint, but he'd at least buried that man believing he had been a good man who loved his sons.

Sam sighed again and leaned forwards.

"When Dean was fifteen, Dad caught him making out with another guy."

Bobby shook his head and adjusted the ever-present baseball cap.

"I take it he didn't react well."

Sam looked up into the old hunter's eyes.

"He yelled at Dean, calling him weak. Saying he wasn't a man. That mom would have been ashamed of him. And then…"

Sam cut off, swallowing against the catch that had developed in his throat. He stood, a sudden burst of nervous energy catapulting him from the sofa and sending him pacing around the small cabin room.

"Then he went out, got drunk, came back, and raped Dean! To teach him a lesson!"

The words burst from him in a rush as the nervousness coalesced into blinding fury. Fury at his father for doing it and fury at the memory of his brother, his big brother who had always been the strongest person Dam knew, his brother crying and trembling in his arms as he relived what their father had done to him. John Winchester had achieved what every demon and monster he'd ever come across couldn't. He had brought Dean to his knees and broken him.

He looked over to see Bobby sitting stock still on the coffee table, his expression mirroring the anger Sam was feeling.

"That son of a bitch!" he said quietly but emphatically, standing and making a beeline for the door behind which Dean had disappeared.

"Now you listen here." He said, opening the door and moving to sit on Sam's bed opposite where Dean sat on his own leaning back against the headboard. Sam followed and his brother jumped at Bobby's entrance and inched away from the man, "Your dad may have been a great hunter and a good father in the beginning but let me tell you something about living with abuse boy. It sneaks up on you and it's too damn easy to just give in and accept it, to let it become just another crappy part of your crappy life. But it don't gotta be that way. Now I'm gonna tell you something Dean and you need to believe that I am telling the truth. Do you trust me?"

Dean seemed too shocked to speak.

"Do you trust me Dean to always tell you the honest to god truth?"

Sam looked at his brother looking at Bobby. He seemed…young. Dean had never looked young to Sam not even when they were little and not just because he was his older brother but also because his brother had always been the one taking care of him; the parent, more than John had ever been. But here and now Sam tried to remember Dean at fifteen. Not the cocky, jaded persona he'd put on to protect himself, but the boy on the verge of becoming a man, alone and confused about an emerging sexuality that he wasn't expecting and didn't understand. Sam remembered his own puberty, the feelings, the desires. Looking at him now, Sam could see that boy shining out through his striking green eyes; the boy he'd always been even when he was clothing and feeding Sam at the age of six or hunting at the age of ten. And he saw the teenager, desperate for some sign that he wasn't totally and completely alone, latching onto the first person to come along who understood, and then having it so violently ripped away from him by the man he trusted most.

Sam felt his heart break for his brother and then swell with pride at the thought of how strong he was to have survived it.

Dean, who was looking unblinkingly at Bobby, nodded. Of course he trusted him.

"You did not deserve what that bastard did. You are not responsible for the fact that he was an abusive jackass, and you are not any weaker because of it."

Bobby's gaze seemed to pierce through Dean to shine a spotlight on every twisted insecurity he had surrounding the painful memory. He wanted to deny those words, to go back to the way he had been because at least self-loathing was familiar territory and a hell of a lot easier than seeing John Winchester as anything other than a God in his eyes. Sure his dad had been a bastard, but Dean had been his good little soldier for almost as long as he could remember. It was who he was and if he tore that down then what would be left? Dean feared that if he tried, the answer would turn out to be: nothing.

"Do you hear me boy?" Bobby asked.

Sam moved to sit on Dean's bed.

"Bobby's right Dean. What Dad did…it was wrong, so wrong. Pure and simple."

Dean lowered his gaze, pulling at the loose threads of the quilt that covered his bed and nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam sighed and he and Bobby eyed each other, silently agreeing that that was all they were likely to get out of Dean. At least it was something.

"Well, I'm going to go see if I can scrounge up something for dinner." Sam said, standing and leaving Dean and Bobby alone. Bobby moved over to Dean's bed and sat beside him, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You alright?"

Dean raised his head and wiped away and errant tear that had begun to trickle down his cheek.

"Yeah." He said, his voice rough and husky from trying to hold back tears.

Bobby grunted and slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"I meant what I said earlier, I'm damn proud of you Dean."

Bobby stood, letting his hand rest for a moment on Dean's shoulder which he squeezed tightly before going to help Sam prepare some semblance of dinner, allowing Dean time to sit and think and heal.

…

A/N

Yes this is a Destiel fic but unfortunately it will take a while to get there because Dean has some healing to do and he's a stubborn jackass.

Please, please, please review to tell me what you think, I'm new to this fandom and pairing and I would genuinely love your feedback. Also I got some bad news today and I'm feeling pretty crappy so reviews would really cheer me up. That and visiting my Tumblr: songstress42 . tumblr

I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

This one takes place before 7x08. No Cas but he will be in the next one I promise.…

...

"So are you like…gay?"

Dean nearly choked on the burger he'd just bitten into when Sam came out with his non sequitur. He coughed and hacked for a few moments before he managed to take a breath and swallow properly.

Sam waited patiently for his brother to regain the power of breathing and ruminated that maybe such a direct approach to breeching the subject of Dean's sexuality hadn't been as good idea as he'd thought.

Dean cleared his throat and glared at his brother sitting across from him at the crappy diner table. They were on their way to Vegas for their annual pilgrimage and had stopped off for sustenance.

"What?" He asked, his voice still raspy from the coughing fit and his tone dangerous; warning Sam to tread carefully.

Sam shrugged; clearly uncomfortable by the line of questioning he'd just started.

"Well, I mean…all the women you've been with. Was that just…overcompensating or are you actually attracted to women and men?"

Dean stared at his little brother with his I can't believe you want to have this conversation look.

"Really Sammy? You wanna do this now?"

Sam shrugged.

"What, I'm curious."

Dean sighed and set the burger back on the plate, leaning back in the booth and wiping his mouth on a napkin. He glanced out of the window and shrugged.

"I don't know. After dad…" Dean stopped and cleared his throat, "I was really confused. Scared." His gaze dropped to his hands where they began shredding the paper napkin, "I kept having all these…feelings for guys. I didn't know what to do. It made me angry."

"At dad?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up into his brother's eyes.

"At myself."

Sam frowned.

"Why?"

Dean shook his head and shrugged again.

"I don't know, because I couldn't control it. I didn't want those feelings and it felt like…my body betraying me you know."

Dean paused.

"Then there was this girl…Robin. She was nice, pretty, interesting. She kissed me and at first I was so scared and confused. But it was nice and I enjoyed it and I figured hey, if I like guys and girls then maybe I could just focus on the girls and everything would be fine you know? Girls are…safe. And I could prove to dad that I wasn't…that it was just a phase and everything would be fine."

Sam nodded.

"So you're bi?"

Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. I guess." Dean felt a blush creep up his neck to heat his face. He'd never thought of his sexuality in those terms, preferring instead to ignore any urges towards his own gender in favour of those towards the opposite. He and Sam had never had to define their sexualities; at least not to each other. But now, with the cat out of the bag, it felt oddly…satisfying to label it, it made the whole subject seem less intimidating somehow.

"Now can we drop this conversation before one of us grows a uterus?"

He went back to his food but out of the corner of his eye he could see that Sam still had his I have questions expression on. Dean chose to ignore it.

"Hey Dean."

Dean sighed.

"What is it Sam?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably and Dean tensed. His brother had that look about him like he was going to ask something personal about Dean. More personal than his perceived sexuality that was.

"What?"

"Did Dad ever…do anything else? To you?"

Dean's insides went cold.

"Why? Did he do something to you? He didn't hit you did he?!"

"What? No! No dad never hurt me."

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

Sam looked at his brother, gauging his reaction.

"Did he hit you?"

Dean didn't need to answer; the look in his eyes was all the confirmation Sam needed.

"He did, didn't he?!"

"Sam."

"When? How often?"

"Sam!"

His brother's terse voice silenced him and Sam closed his mouth staring at Dean's tired face. The other diner patrons were starting to look their way and Dean threw down some money before dragging his enraged brother out of the eatery and over to the blue dodge.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two brothers as they settled against the hood.

Dean bit his lip and looked down and away. He never wanted to have this conversation with Sam, never wanted his brother to know the truth about their father: that the rape hadn't been a one off thing because his dad had been drunk and disappointed in Dean. That Dean had gladly taken every beating his dad ever dished out because at least when John Winchester was hitting Dean he wasn't hitting Sam. It was a huge relief to know that his sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

"Dean."

Sam's voice was soft and sad.

"How many times did dad hit you?"

Dean steeled his features into an emotionless mask and looked back up at his brother.

"Just drop it Sammy, It's not important."

Sam's face screwed up in anger.

"Not important?! You think it's not important that dad hit you?! That he abused you?!"

"No." Dean confirmed, "It's not important."

"Why?!"

"Because I did it for you!"

Sam looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"So this is my fault?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant. What I meant was that-"

"That your safety is somehow less important than mine?"

Dean didn't answer and Sam threw up his hands, his frustration with his brother's martyr complex propelling him off the hood of the car. He paced, hands running through his hair and across his face as he tried to think of a way to convince his brother that his life did have worth no matter what their dad may have beaten into him.

"Sam."

Sam ignored his brother as he continued pacing.

"Sam!"

"What?!"

Sam spun around to face his brother. Dean gestured to his side with his head and Sam huffed but leaned back against the car beside Dean.

"When I said I did it for you," Dean began, "I didn't mean I blamed you."

Sam started to calm down as he listened to his brother's explanation.

"I just meant that…I had to look out for you all right? That was my job. That's always been my job. To protect you, even from dad. And if that meant taking the beatings dad dished out then so be it. If I had it to do over again I'd do exactly the same thing."

Sam felt his frustration growing again.

"Yeah but I don't want you to put yourself in harms way just to protect me Dean. I never asked you to do that."

"It was never a question of you asking Sammy. It was my job as your older brother."

Sam sighed. They had come to this impasse so many times before.

"Am I the reason you stayed?"

Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Sam shifted.

"After what dad did to you. I mean, you could have left, gotten yourself away from him. Did you stay for me?"

Dean leaned back.

"I didn't want him to do to you what he did to me."

Sam sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands. A thought occurred to him.

"Did dad hit you when I ran away from Flagstaff?"

"Sam."

"Did he hit you?"

Dean's silence was all the confirmation Sam needed. Shit. No wonder Dean had seemed so upset at seeing the memory when they were in heaven. Knowing that one of Sam's happiest moment resulted in one of Dean's worst.

"Dean I am so sor-"

"Don't you dare apologize."

Sam's hazel eyes met Dean's green. Both were glistening with unshed tears. Sam nodded, his jaw clenching in an effort to keep from weeping.

Silently they got back in the car.

They had said all they needed to say.


	4. Chapter 4

Yay Cas is finally here! This takes place during 7x17 The Born-Again Identity.

Disclaimer: None of the dialogue is mine. I took it directly from the episode apart from one line so the dialogue isn't mine, just the sub-text.

Enjoy!

…

Hellish light flickered and spat in sparks as Dean rammed Ruby's knife deep into the Demon's gut, before fading. He shoved the body back and it fell, its dead-weight tumbling down the front steps. Dean watched in satisfaction as the body landed and ceased to move. It always gave him a great sense of relief to dispatch the scum of the supernatural world back to whatever hell they'd clawed their way out of. It had been the centre of his world for almost as long as he could remember and no matter how dark or screwed up things got, at least he had this to remind him that he could still do some good for this world.

It took him a millisecond to notice that, where the demon had landed, were two feet. His eyes travelled upwards as he took in the figure of the person who had just witnessed him ostensibly killing a guy.

His heart stopped when his eyes reached the figure's face.

It was a face that featured prominently in his dreams, both pleasurable and nightmarish, and one which he had never expected to see again. The eyes seemed bluer than he'd remembered.

Dean stared, unable to move past the revelation that Cas was alive. Cas was _alive_. _Cas_.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He wanted to move forward, to shout the angel's name, to hold him and know he was real and solid, and then to shoot him for his unbelievably bad decisions. After all, he was an angel, he should have known better. Dean wanted to ask him how he'd survived the reservoir, where he'd been, why he hadn't come back…

Dean's heart lurched painfully. He couldn't believe it. He'd watched Castiel walk into that reservoir, had seen him sink beneath the placid surface and not come back.

But here he was staring up at Dean with those same blue eyes and oh God time had not exaggerated his features in Dean's mind at all. The skin around the eyes creased in confusion, which was so…Cas, but it was underscored with something he had very rarely, if ever, seen in those expressive, blue eyes: fear.

Dean started. This man was afraid, afraid of the demon, afraid of seeing Dean killing it. But Castiel was an angel, a soldier of God who had seen battle, death, hell he had smote thousands during his stint as God. So why was he now so skittish at the sight of one more dead monster.

"What was that?"

Dean stared. Was this a joke? If it wasn't for the fact that Cas' sense of humor was not nearly developed enough to pull something like this off, he might have been inclined to believe it. He stared at the man standing at the foot of the stairs staring back up at him. This _was_ Cas, definitely Cas. So why didn't he know what a demon was when he saw one? Dean opened his mouth but no words came out. What was he supposed to say?

Suddenly, Cas started.

"Daphne!" he breathed and rushed up the steps, pushing past Dean in his haste to enter the house.

As his shoulder made contact with Dean's chest, the hunter felt the usual swell of feeling and emotion well up inside him, as it always did when he was near to the angel. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled, breathing in the angel's scent. He smelled the same as he always had; like air and earth and lightening. He breathed it in, recalling all the times Cas had appeared by his side, crowding into Dean's space with no regard for personal boundaries and intoxicating Dean with his scent. His nerves sang in delight where the angel had brushed by him, knocked breathless by the brief contact.

Dean stood for a moment frozen while his brain attempted to sort through the sensory overload when one thing pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

_Daphne. Daphne?_

And that's when his stalled brain restarted and Dean felt like he had been kicked in the gut. 

Emmanuel.

Mysterious healer guy.

Sam's only hope.

His wife Daphne.

Dean looked at the house into which Cas had disappeared. There had been no recognition in his eyes when he had looked up at Dean.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Dean muttered angrily as he followed the angel inside. Could he not just once catch a break?

…

Dean loitered as Cas/Emmanuel untied Daphne and helped her up, fawning over her and asking if she was all right. As Dean watched the exchange he felt…something growing in his gut, a painful pressure that squeezed at his insides at the sight of this person who looked like Cas but wasn't and this…woman who was touching him like she had the right. A surge of…anger? Jealousy? Pain? Rose up inside Dean at the sight of them holding hands; touching, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.

Cas had once looked at Dean that way.

Emmanucas had turned from his wife and was now approaching Dean, drawing the woman along with him. Dean spared a glance for their clasped hands. It hadn't been that long had it? Even if Cas – Emmanuel – had been resurrected or whatever immediately after walking into the reservoir they could only have know each other ten months. Ire rose in Dean at the thought of this woman taking advantage of a vulnerable and possibly amnesic Castiel.

"I am Emmanuel." He said, extending his hand.

Dean stared at it. When did Cas learn about human social signals? Dan reached for it, feeling like he was falling further and further down the rabbit hole.

"Dean." He said, "I'm Dean."

"Thank you for protecting my wife."

Even though Dean had already surmised that Daphne was Emmanuel's wife, hearing him say it out loud was like a cymbal crash in his head. This was wrong, so very, very wrong. Cas wasn't supposed to be just some other person living in Colorado and married to some random woman. He was supposed to be with Dean and Sam, popping in on occasion, accompanying them on hunts, frowning on confusion and incomprehension at Dean's pop culture references. Dean should be the one teaching Cas about shaking hands not this…floozy.

"Your wife." He answered weakly as his brain swam in ever growing overwhelming confusion. "Right."

"I saw his face, his real face."

Dean felt like his brain had stalled again.

"He was a demon."

How much had he forgotten?

"A demon walked the earth."

The fear inside Dean was rising steadily.

"Demon_s_, whackloads of 'em. You don't know about-"

The look of utter incomprehension on the face of the man who had once faced down the king of hell and the leader of the archangels, the face of the man who had once been his friend, best friend, finally drove the nail home.

Cas wasn't pretending or ignoring him or playing a joke on him – not that Dean thought any of those scenarios was the least bit likely – he truly didn't remember anything.

Dean felt a terrible sense of loneliness settle on his shoulders at the blank look in his friend's eyes.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Cas could go on living this idyllic little life, healing people, doing good, ignorant of the pain and suffering he'd cause. And Dean found himself wanting that for him, just as he wanted it for Sam. Free from the pain and burden of knowledge that this life brought with it; to live in blissful ignorance.

"You saw the demon's true face." Daphne was saying before turning to Dean, "Emmanuel has very special gifts."

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I've ah heard that about…Emmanuel." He fixed the man with his gaze, "That you can heal people up."

There seemed to be a certain poetic justice in asking for help fixing Sam from the very person who had broken him in the first place. Emmanuel was looking up at him again and Dean couldn't help the well of emotion that swelled as he stared into those vivid blue eyes. Eyes that stared back with no recognition whatsoever.

"I seem to be able to help to a certain degree. What's your issue?"

Dean made up his mind. Sure Cas was back with no memory. But right now, Sam needed his help so Dean did what he always did: took his needs, feelings, and desires and shoved them deep down. He wouldn't tell Emmanuel who he really was. He didn't need that burden and Dean didn't need him walking into another lake. When this was all over and Sam was back on his feet, he would bring Emmanuel back here to his wife and they would go their separate ways. It was not like Dean had ever expected to see him again and you couldn't miss what you never had.

"My brother."


	5. Chapter 5

"This ain't gonna go well."

"I don't know, I believe in the little tree topper."

As Dean watched Cas walk away from him, he felt his gut twist.

On the one hand he wanted Castiel back. His Castiel.

It was a greedy, selfish want that surged though Dean like a drug. It was what he had wanted, what he had dreamed of since he'd watched the man lurch into that reservoir. What he'd been praying for as the angel had sunk beneath the water and he'd waited with bated breath for him to reemerge. But as the seconds and then minutes had ticked past, his hopes had faded and when he'd looked down to find that the sodden trench coat had made it's way back to the shore, born on the rippled movement of the water, he'd resigned himself to knowing that he'd never get his angel back. It was easier than hoping in vain.

And then he was there again. In that house with a different name and a different life but the same face that haunted Dean's every waking moment. Oh God did he want _his_ angel back.

But at the same time he knew it would come at a cost.

As Emmanuel, Cas was unburdened. Content. The way he'd been before Dean had entered his life and bulldozed it as he did with everything he touched.

As Meg had said, they didn't want to upset the guy.

Meg.

This was all her fault. She was the one that wanted to tell Cas in the first place, the one who had blurted out that he was an angel.

Dean's ingrained need to save Sam warred against his desire to protect Cas as he watched the angel march into battle with only the vague hope that instinct would take over, that some small part of Cas would remember who and what he was.

Cas stepped up to the first demon and pushed him lamely in the chest. Dean hefted the knife, preparing to run into the fray after the amnesic angel. This was stupid, this was suicide. There was no way Castiel would be able to defend himself in his current state.

And then Castiel's hand was on the demon's head and blinding light was pouring out of its eyes before it dropped to the floor, eyes burned out.

"That's my boy." He heard Meg comment from behind him and he felt like punching the demon. He wasn't _her_ boy. What claim did she have to him just because they'd shared an admittedly heated kiss once that Dean had still never managed to wipe from his brain.

Dean watched as Castiel smote every single one of the demons guarding the hospital and when he was finished, he just stood there, unmoving, as Dean and Meg came up behind him.

"That was beautiful Clarence." Meg said in her sarcastic alto.

When Cas didn't turn around immediately, Dean started to worry.

"Cas?"

He waited with bated breath, wondering who he would see shining out of those brilliant blue eyes: Emmanuel or Castiel.

"I remember you." The voice was gruffer than Emmanuel's had been, pulled down by the weight of knowledge and memory. He turned and Castiel's serious gaze was back on Jimmy Novak's face.

Dean started. He hadn't realized how unlike Castiel Emmanuel had been until that moment and Dean was hit with an overwhelming feeling of relief that the angel was finally back and then sorrow at the immeasurable amount of pain he could see in the angel's eyes.

"I remember everything."

Dean stood stock still as Castiel fought with the memories flooding his mind.

"What I did. What I became." He looked back at Dean, eyes angry, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Sam's dying in there."

"Because of me!" Dean started at the anger and pain in the angel's voice, "Everything, all these people. I shouldn't be here."

Cas stormed past Dean and Meg

"Cas! Cas!" Dean called after him. He turned to Meg. "You stay here. Cas!"

Turning, Dean chased after the distraught angel, catching up with him near the car.

"If you remember, you know you did the best you could at the time."

"Don't defend me." The angel countered, "Do you have any idea the death toll in heaven? On Earth?"

Castiel rounded on Dean.

"We didn't part friends Dean.

"So what?"

"I _deserved_ to die."

Hear those words spoken with such resolution cut Dean to the quick as though the very phrase could reign down heavenly wrath and snatch the angel away from him. Dean had already lost Castiel more times than he could stand.

"Now, I can't possibly fix it…So why did I even walk out of that river?"

"Maybe to fix it."

Cas looked away, huffing in annoyance when a thought occurred to Dean.

"Wait." He said, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He opened the trunk of the black Dodge Charger and pulled out the folded trench coat.

He didn't know why he had kept it. It was stupid and sentimental and so not his style but Dean hadn't had the heart to give it up, as though that would mean he was giving up Cas. He looked down at the bundle of tan fabric. He hadn't been able to get the bloodstains out no matter how many times he'd washed it but it was a link to the old Cas. The one who had rescued him from hell, had rebelled against heaven for him, had let Dean drag him to a brothel and saved him from Zachariah and always, always, always came when he called. Castiel whom he had loved even if he didn't have the strength to admit it even to himself.

Dean thought back to the last time he'd seen Cas alive. Showing up covered in blood, his vessel falling apart from the strain of containing thousands of monstrous souls. Trying to apologize to Dean who couldn't find it in him to accept, not then, not after watching Sam fall apart. The grief of thinking he was dead only for the angel to recover, healed. Everything could have been fine. They could have healed Sam, gone back to Bobby's, and, over time, recover their friendship. But then the Leviathans came and Cas walked into the reservoir and Dean never got a chance to tell him…

Dean held out the coat to Cas like a superhero's uniform. Cas stared, fingering the folded material before looking up at Dean.

"You kept it."

Dean nodded and Castiel took the coat, unfurling it and letting it hang. Slowly, almost reverently, Cas slipped it on.

"There." Dean said, adjusting the lapels and letting his hands rest on the angel's chest, "Good as new."

Cas stared up at Dean, blue eyes wide, pleading.

"Dean I…I am sorry. For everything."

Dean nodded.

"I know." He pulled the angel forward, wrapping his arms around him and reveling in the solidity of his friend as though he needed to touch him, feel him, to prove he was really here, "Now go save my brother. Meg and I will be right behind you."

Castiel stared at Dean for another long second before nodding and disappearing in a ruffle of invisible wings.

…

Castiel could not fix Sam.

Dean felt the weight of that knowledge settle on his already overburdened shoulders like a colossus. He had been so sure it would work, especially after Emmanuel had turned out to be Cas. To hear that it wasn't going to happen was…

"What the hell do you mean you _can't_?"

He stood with Castiel in the corner of Sam's room. Sam looked, if it was even possible, worse than he had when Dean had left.

"I mean there's nothing left to rebuild."

"Why not." It wasn't impossible. It couldn't be. They were the Winchesters. They pointed and laughed at the impossible.

"Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever's happening inside his head right now."

Dean leaned back against the wall, staring at his brother, wondering what he was seeing, hearing. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not for them.

"So you're saying there's nothing? That he's going to be like this until his candle blows out?" Dean's anger with the angel was rising. He was glad Castiel was back, so, so glad but still, the memory that this was all Cas's doing ate at him and incited his ire.

"I'm sorry. This isn't a problem I can make disappear, you know that."

Castiel joined Dean in looking at Sam, oblivious to their presence. The angel stiffened.

"But I may be able to shift it."

Dean looked at the resolve growing in the angel. Shift? What did shift mean?

"Shift?" He asked for clarification, Castiel didn't give him any.

"Yeah it would get Sam back on his feet."

The angel moved to Sam's bedside, sitting down and rolling up his sleeves. He glanced back at Dean and said cryptically, "It's better this way." He turned back to Sam, "I'll be fine."

And then it was like the second eclipse all over again. When Cas had turned to Dean and apologized, right before the portal had opened and all the souls had been sucked back into Purgatory.

"Wait Cas what are you doing?" It felt too finite. Too much like a goodbye. Dean's stomach twisted. He couldn't lose the angel. Not when he'd just gotten him back.

But it was too late because Castiel had already placed his hand on Sam's forehead and Sam's eyes flashed with a hellish red light that flowed in tendrils out of Sam and into Cas.

Sam gasped as Cas let go of him and Dean rushed forward with a concerned, "Sam?"

"Dean."

"Sam!" hearing his brother say his name, hell acknowledge him at all, sent a surge of hope through Dean.

But something was wrong with Cas. When Sam tried calling out for him, he stared at the younger Winchester with the same fear that Dean had seen in Sam's eyes only a moment before.

_Shift it_.

Damnit Cas.

Castiel gasped in horror and hurried backwards until he hit the wall, his breath quickening and his face screwed up in terror.

"Cas!" Dean moved forward but with a cry, Castiel stumbled backwards into the corner crouching down into a ball and twining his fingers in his hair, twisting and pulling and whimpering in fear.

…

The door slammed shut behind them as Sam and Dean exited the hospital.

I dunno." Sam said, as he followed Dean to the car, "I mean, we can't just leave him."

"Well we can't bring him with us." Dean countered, ignoring the gnawing ache in his gut that had set up shop the moment Dean had decided that leaving the comatose angel at the hospital was the safest course of action, "Everything on the planet is out for us okay? Word gets out…we can't protect him. Not really. This is safer." Dean wondered as he said it, who he was trying to convince more? Sam or himself? "Every demon who knows about Castiel is dead."

Sam scoffed.

"Not every one."

Dean's stomach clenched again. He didn't like the thought of leaving Meg to look after Cas and not just because she was a demon. He didn't like the way she looked at him and flirted with him and the way Cas had pushed her up against the wall and kissed her when they had been storming Crowley's complex. He didn't like the thought of leaving her alone with him. Especially with him in such a vulnerable state.

"Look Dean, this whole enemy of my enemy is my friend thing sounds kind of like a demon deal.

"It's not a deal." Dean reassured, trying to sound more confident than he felt, "It's-"

"It's what?"

"Mutually assured destruction." He said after a beat.

Sam wasn't buying it.

"Look man, I get it, she's not our friend. We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead."

He got into the car.

_Or as good as_.

Dean sat behind the wheel staring out at nothing and contemplating the amount of crap that life continued to throw at him.

Sam opened the door and folded his oversized frame into the passenger seat.

They drove for a while not saying anything until the tension got to be too much and Dean broke.

"Okay out with it."

Sam looked over at him, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

"Out with what?"

"I know you want to know about Cas."

Dean had explained briefly to Sam about Emmanuel and the amnesia but Dean also know Sam would have more questions. Sam always had more questions.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Cas about…you know?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"What, my _feelings_?" He practically spat the word out as though it were poison.

Sam sighed.

"No." Dean answered, keeping his eyes on the road and refusing to look at his brother knowing the pitying expression he would see in those eyes, "It never came up."

Sam sighed.

"Dean I'm…" he trailed off, "I'm sorry."

Dean made a non-committal noise and they lapsed back into silence.

A part of Dean was glad he and Cas hadn't talked about it. It was after all his modus operandi to just shove everything down and ignore it, but all the same he couldn't shake the feelings of loss and hurt and betrayal. Cas had healed Sam yes, but at the cost of his own sanity and he'd gone and done it without saying goodbye and now he was gone. Again.

And Dean had just gotten him back.

He squeezed the steering wheel in frustration.

That was why he has leaving Cas behind. Because it was too hard, too painful to see the shell of the angel who had been his friend, his savior, literally, reduced to an unresponsive empty vessel.

He had lost the man he loved all over again and it still hurt like hell.


	6. Chapter 6

So this chapter spans from 7x21 to 9x01. The story follows canon pretty much up until the end of season 8 and after that I will be deviating from the show's storyline.

Enjoy!

…

As they walked through the corridors of the Northern Indiana State Hospital, Dean couldn't help the feeling of nervous anticipation that was growing steadily stronger in his gut. Ever since Meg had called to tell them Cas was awake, he had been chomping at the bit to get here but now that they were…

"You know, we raced all the way here and now, I dunno. I can't say I'm fired up to see what's left of the guy."

"You think he remembers it all?"

Dean scoffed.

"That and whatever hell baggage he lifted off of your plate. It's not going to be pretty."

Castiel was standing at the window when they entered, his trench-coat clad back turned to them in the dimly lit room. It was such a familiar sight that Dean half expected him to turn, greet him with a terse 'Hello Dean' and start spouting some shit about the apocalypse or stolen holy weapons.

"Hey Cas." He said, forcing false calm into his voice, a life-long habit borne from his need to keep his emotions hidden and his head above water.

The angel didn't respond right away and for a second Dean feared another Emmanuel incident, that the madness he'd released Sam from had somehow robbed him of himself and he'd forgotten everything again.

But then he turned and he was…Cas.

"Hello Dean."

Dean had heard those words spoken so many times in exactly the same tone and voice. The sound of it soothed Dean with its familiarity and Dean began to let himself hope that maybe it would all be okay. That Meg had just been messing with them when she'd hinted at there being a problem. That whatever mysterious power that had brought Cas out of the lake, be it God or who knew what, had fixed him. Properly fixed him.

For a long moment Dean allowed himself to bask in the possibility that he could have _his_ Castiel back and actually keep him this time.

"Sam."

Sam smiled.

"Hey Castiel." His relieved tone of voice told Dean that his brother was thinking along very similar lines to Dean.

"Well, look at you walking and talking." He said as Cas stepped forwards, coming to stand in front of the two brothers, "That's, that's great right?"

Because he needed it to be great. He needed Cas to be all right because he didn't think he could take losing another person he cared about. Not this year.

Cas held out his hand, index finger extended towards Dean. Dean looked down at it and back up at Cas, the hope that had bloomed in his chest slipping an iota.

"Pull my finger." The angel said, his eyes wide and serious.

"What?"

"My finger. Pull it."

And with that, Dean's brief flame of hope died. This was not Castiel. Not his Castiel. He fought the urge to sob and then break something because, of course. When did the universe ever do something nice for the Winchesters?

Dean cleared his throat but obliged, grasping the offered digit and tugging slightly.

Every light in the room blew in a shower of sparks and breaking glass sending the four plunging into moonlit darkness.

Castiel laughed and Dean felt inexplicably angry. Castiel didn't _laugh_, Castiel never _laughed_.

This wasn't Castiel.

Dean's anger continued to grow as Cas rattled on about bees and Meg's beauty and cat penises and some dude called Metatron until Dean and Meg began yelling at one another and he decided to go on a little trip to the dayroom, breaking the tablet in the process.

It might have been funny under different circumstances but seeing Cas like this…Cas who had rebelled against heaven and taken on archangels and raised Dean from the pit. Seeing him reduced to this sorry state was just too much. It saddened Dean to see him this way and frustrated him as he tried to communicate the importance of their task while Cas sat there and played his game and Dean's anger grew until he could not take it anymore.

"Forget the damn game!" he yelled, slamming his hand on the table and sweeping the stupid board game off the table. Why should Cas get to faff around, playing games and following bees while the whole world went to shit because of something _he_ did?

Why did he get to ignore everything and bury his head in the sand?

Dean immediately regretted his outburst when Cas bowed his head, looking like a kicked puppy whose favourite teddy bear had just been stolen, but he couldn't let go of his anger.

It wasn't fair damnit! The universe couldn't go and bring Cas back only to take him away again, leaving this shadow, this ghost behind that looked like Cas and sounded like Cas but wasn't.

Dean just wanted his friend back. More than anything.

"Forget the game Cas."

_Please._

Cas looked at him.

"I'm sorry Dean."

But Dean couldn't accept it because it still hurt too damn much. Why was it always the people he loved who ended up hurting him the most?

"No." Dean said, "You're _playing_ Sorry."

...

He survived purgatory. Survived the long year of non-stop hunting and searching for the angel with the blue eyes.

He survived Cas getting left behind despite the ache of loss that sat heavy in his soul when he remembered the relief at finally finding the angel by that river, how good it had felt to hold him, feel him real and solid. To know that this was _his _Cas not Crazy Cas or Emmanuel or Godstiel or the leviathans, just _Cas_.

He survived thinking he was going crazy seeing the trench coat clad angel everywhere he went.

He survived nearly dying of a heart attack when the aforementioned angel showed up in the bathroom with no warning whatsoever.

He survived the growing suspicion that the Cas that had made it out of purgatory was not the same one he had left there.

He had survived Cas nearly killing him, looking down on him with blank, uncaring eyes as Dean kneeled, beaten and bloody at his feet and pleaded with him, hoping against hope that the part of Cas that had rebelled, had always come when he called, had looked on him with love and devotion would hear and stop.

But he did not know if he could survive this.

Not this.

"Don't you dare think that there is _anything_, past, present, or future that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you."

Sam stood there looking like death warmed over. His arms glowing with the force of the incomplete third trial.

"I'm sorry Dean. I have to do this. For every person who has ever been possessed by a demon, for every person caught in the crossfire. For Sarah and Bobby and Rufus and Jess and Mom. And you Dean. I have to do this. I'm sorry."

"Sammy, No!"

But it was too late because Sam had already clamped his bleeding hand over Crowley's mouth and yelled "Lastra!"

Crowley's head snapped back, a white light blazing from his eyes.

Sam fell to the floor, panting and coughing, the ground in front of his mouth growing red with flecks of blood. With shaking hands he lifted the paper with final chant written on it, whispering the words between deep, hacking coughs. His arms lit up with pure celestial light, spreading through his body until he was glowing out of every pore. And then he turned onto his back and screamed, light shooting out of him until it filled the entire abandoned church with blinding luminescence.

When it faded, Crowley was still chained to the chair and Sam lay unmoving on the ground.

"Sam? Sam!"

Dean ran to where his brother lay, falling to his knees and shaking him roughly.

"Sam? Sammy?"

He checked his pulse. Nothing.

"Sammy!" He looked up, his voice pleading, "Cas! Castiel! Please! Please Cas I need you!"

But the angel didn't appear and Dean felt the ache of abandonment added to the heartbreak of seeing his brother's lifeless body laying unmoving on the bare floor of the abandoned church. Tears burned his eyes as he continued calling Sam's name.

"No no no…"

He lifted Sam's head and torso up onto his lap, cradling the still body to his chest and rocking back and forth, broken sobs wracking his body as he wept into his brother's hair.

Dimly, he registered several loud, earth shattering _BOOMs!_ Echoing in the derelict church and the sky outside the blown out windows was lit with thousands of glowing balls of light falling to the ground like meteors.

"No." Dean whispered.

Castiel hadn't succeeded, just as Dean hadn't succeeded in preventing Sam from completing the final trial. Cas hadn't stopped Metatron.

And now the angels were falling.

He looked up at the figure still chained to the chair above him.

"Bring him back." He said, "Bring him back."

Crowley stared back, his expression a mixture of shock and pity.

"I can't Dean." He answered softly, his voice as gravelly as it always was but lacking in the usual disdain.

"Can't or won't!" Dean yelled back.

"Can't." he confirmed.

"Well why not you son of a bitch!" his hands were shaking where they held his brother's lifeless body.

"Because he completed the third trial." Crowley explained, "I not a demon anymore Dean."

The last vestiges of hope fled. Of course. The trials. Sam had closed the gates of hell forever. Which meant he had succeeded in curing Crowley. It also meant no crossroads demon. No deals. And, with Castiel not answering his damn prayers, there was nothing, nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing he could do to save Sam. He could hear his father's voice echoing in his head, berating him for letting his little brother down once again.

_Look after Sam._

_It's your job to protect Sam._

_I told you not to let him out of your sight._

_It's your duty._

_I raised you to be a man._

He had failed. Failed in everyway imaginable. He should never have let Sam do the trials. It should have been him. Dean buried his face in his brother's hair, not caring that he had an audience to his breakdown. Sam was dead. Nothing else mattered.

And then the body in his arms gave and almighty jerk and Sam gasped, sitting up so quickly and violently that he nearly head-butted Dean in the face.

Dean was thrown back, staring in shock at his resurrected brother.

Sam sat panting, trying to get his bearings. He looked around until he locked eyes with his brother.

"Dean." He said, his face contorted in confusion. "Wha-?"

But the rest of his words were cut short when Dean grabbed him and pulled him in, squeezing tight.

"Dean? Dean!"

"What?" his voice came out choked as he fought not to burst into tears again.

"If you squeeze any harder I'm going to die again."

Dean loosened his grip and pulled back, not taking his hands off Sam's shoulders.

"Sorry, I just umm…"

Sam nodded.

"I know."

And he did. He could see the evidence of tears on Dean's face and he remembered how he'd grabbed a hold of Dean when he and Bobby had shown up four months after they'd buried his brother.

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Sam looked around, finally noticing the nearly forgotten third person in the room.

"If you two are done with your tender brotherly moment would you mind terribly uncuffing me?" Crowley asked.

Sam blinked. The words had been spoken in the usual gruff tones but there was something missing; an underlying anger that was just…gone.

He turned to Dean.

"Did it work?"

Dean stood and pulled his flask of holy water from an inside pocket. Unscrewing the cap, he doused the chained man.

Nothing happened.

Crowley looked down at the water dripping from his face onto the dark slacks of his vessel. His body.

He could feel it. The humanity, creeping up on him. Infecting, invading. The weight of the knowledge of all that he had done settling upon his shoulders. He tried to push it back, file it away but he could still feel it, like a wild creature clawing his insides to bits. He looked up.

"It worked."

Sam nodded.

"Good." He said before passing out.

…

When he woke again he was laying in a hospital bed. Dean was asleep in a chair beside him but opened his eyes and sat up the moment Sam regained consciousness.

"Hey." He said, sitting forward in his chair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "How're you feeling?"

Sam tried to hoist his body into a more upright position but found he was too weak to even make it more than a few inches. Dean grabbed the remote and pressed a button, raising the bed until Sam was sitting comfortably upright.

"Weak." He answered in a quiet, rough voice, "Tired. Sore. Thirsty."

Dean filled a cup with water and handed it to Sam who nearly spilled it when he tried to hold it on his own. Dean grabbed a straw and held the cup up so Sam could drink.

"Thanks." He said when the cup was empty, "What happened?"

"Well, you ah, finished the trial and then died."

Dean was looking at him murderously and Sam knew that as soon as Dean's relief over the fact that Sam had miraculously survived faded, he would get more than an earful from his brother.

"And then the angels fell."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Apparently those tasks that Metatron was getting Cas to do-"

"The ones to close heaven?"

"Yeah, not what they were for. He was trying to cast the angels out. And it looks like it worked."

Sam sat in stunned silence, trying to process the news that every single angle in heaven was now walking the earth.

"What about Cas?"

"MIA." Dean tried to cover the tremor in his voice with a cough but Sam could tell his brother was worried about the angel. "Last I saw him he was going to confront Metatron. Looks like it didn't go well."

"Do you think that he…I mean…"

Dean looked up and Sam could see the worry in his eyes.

"I dunno. I tried praying to him but…" He trailed off.

"So." He said, clearing his throat and changing gears, "Do you remember anything else from when you were, you know?"

"Dead?"

Dean shifted and swallowed, his eyes bright with withheld tears.

"Yeah." He replied gruffly.

Sam took in a deep breath and relaxed back against the bed, letting his gaze wander up to the plain white ceiling.

"Not really. I just remember feeling…peaceful. You know?"

He looked over at Dean who nodded despite the fact that they both knew Dean had never felt peaceful a day in his life.

"So you don't uh, you don't know what brought you back?"

Sam shook his head. They sat in silence contemplating the implications. Good things didn't tend to happen to the Winchesters and in their experience; resurrections were rarely a good thing.

"What did the doctor say?"

Dean shook his head.

"They were amazed you were still breathing. Apparently your insides were turning to goop, something about massive burns on all your organs but you're starting to improve which they can't explain. They're calling you a miracle."

Sam tried to take it all in.

"Well…I mean, the tablet was the word of God, maybe…"

"Maybe what? Maybe God brought you back?" Dean scoffed, "God who's been AWOL for who knows how long?"

"Well, someone brought me back. Why do we have to assume it's a bad thing? Good things do happen Dean."

"Not to us!"

Sam huffed and leant back against the pillows.

"What about Crowley?"

"What about him?"

Sam glared and Dean sighed.

"He's in the trunk of the car."

"What? But the trial."

"Oh he's human. Don't worry, I've been feeding him."

"Dean."

"Look, I don't trust him Sam. You may have 'cured' him but that don't make him an ally."

Sam sighed but didn't argue. Dean had a point. And besides, he was too tired.

Dean's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller id but didn't recognize the number. He answered.

"Who is this?"

"Dean."

Dean's heart leapt in relief at the sound of the familiar rough voice.

"Cas!"

Sam raised his head.

"What the hell is going on?

"Metatron tricked me. It wasn't angel trials, it was a spell. I wanted you to know that."

"A spell?"

Sam raised his eyebrows as Dean glanced over.

"Okay, where are you? Have you heard my prayers? I've been praying to you all night."

"Dean, Metatron he…he took my grace."

"What?!"

"Don't worry about me. What about Sam? Did you stop him from completing the trials?"

"No. He did it. He closed the gates of hell."

"And? You don't sound upset so…"

"No he's fine. A little tired and weak and well, he did die for a few minutes but then…"

"What."

"Something brought him back."

There was silence over the phone.

"What? What brought him back."

"I don't know."

Dean heard Castiel sigh.

"Well, so long as he's alright."

"Yeah." Dean answered, "But what about you? You said Metatron took your grace. Does that mean you're human now?"

"Don't worry about me Dean, I'll be fine. I've met another angel. She's lost, she needs my help."

"Are you sure you can trust her? I mean if it was your grace that cast them out, don't you think some of them'll be pretty pissed at you?"

"I can't just abandon them Dean."

"Damnit Cas! Are you hearing yourself? In my experience angels aren't the best news on a good day but now that they've fallen, I can't imagine they're going to be any more reasonable. Look I want you to stay where you are; I'm going to come get you. Where are you?"

"I'm at a gas station. In Longmont, Colorado." He said, giving Dean the location that the man who'd picked him up had given him.

Dean cursed under his breath. It would take at least a day of straight driving to get there.

"Okay Cas, listen to me. I need you to stay where you are. It's going to take a while to get there but I'm gonna come get you you hear? If you find somewhere else to stay, call me. And if we get separated, make for the bunker. You got it?"

"I've got it. Thank you Dean."

"Okay."

Dean hung up and Sam raised his eyebrows for answers.

"What's going on? Why is Cas human? Where is he?"

"Colorado." Dean answered, making for the door in search of a wheelchair to get his brother out of the hospital, "Metatron used his grace to cast the angels out. I'll explain everything once we get out of here."

…

Sam slept most of the drive, his body still very weak despite the fact that it was slowly healing itself. Dean pounded back cup after cup of crappy gas station coffee as he drove to Cas.

But when they reached the truck stop Cas had described for him, the former angel was nowhere to be seen.

"Damnit!" Dean yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the phone booth. He'd heard no word from the guy since they'd talked the day before.

He made his way back to the impala and climbed into the driver's seat.

"He's not here." He told Sam who was slumped in the passenger side of the bench seat, head resting against the window.

"Well, you told him to head to the bunker right?"

Dean nodded. He knew there was nothing else to do. There was no way to contact Cas and he couldn't keep driving around with Sam in the state he was. He started the car and pulled out onto the road, heading for Lebanon, Kansas and hoping that wherever he was, Castiel was doing the same.

...

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	7. Chapter 7

Dean pulled up to the entrance to the bunker, throwing his baby into park before getting out and moving around to help his brother out of the car. Dean struggled under Sam's oversized bulk, grumbling to himself that it wasn't fair and that 'Little brothers should stay little dammit!'

Together they stumbled into the bunker, narrowly missing being impaled by an arrow.

"What the hell." He muttered, as Sam sagged against him.

"Dean? Sam?" Kevin popped up from behind a makeshift barricade in the library wielding a crossbow. "You're alive."

"Yeah, cause you're a crappy shot Katniss."

Beside him Sam frowned.

"How do you know—?"

"Shut up." Dean said, making his way to the staircase and beginning the slow descent down.

Kevin rushed up to meet them looking, if possible, even worse than he had when they'd left.

"What happened are you alright?" he asked, moving to Sam's other side.

"He's fine." Dean answered for his brother, "Just recovering from a mild case of being dead."

"What?! You died?"

"Yeah." Sam replied, "It happens to us on occasion."

"What about you?" Dean asked, glancing at the haggard looking prophet.

"It's been a bad couple of days," he responded, his eye twitching involuntarily, "I haven't slept or eaten." The reached the bottom of the staircase and moved towards Sam's room. "I'm pretty backed up."

"Okay, over share."

"After we talked this place went nuts all right? There was some alarm and all the machines were freaking out and the bunker just locked down! I couldn't open the door, my cell phone stopped working! I thought the world was ending."

Kevin stopped which forced Dean and Sam to stop. He looked around Sam to Dean.

"The world didn't end did it?"

"Close." He sighed, "The angels fell."

Kevin looked blankly at him.

"What does that mean?"

Dean shook his head, hefting his brother and continuing on towards the bedrooms.

"Nothing good."

They made it to Sam's room, settling him in the bed where he immediately drifted off to sleep again.

Dean stood, looking down on his unconscious brother.

"So you managed to stop Sam from completing the trials?"

Dean looked up at the prophet.

"No." he said curtly, looking back down at the bed.

"Then…what?"

Dean bit his lip and turned to exit the room, Kevin following.

"He completed them, he died, he came back."

Kevin stopped.

"How?" he whispered.

Dean stopped and turned looking back down the dark corridor. He shook his head.

"I don't know."

And with that he turned, leaving Kevin pondering the news while he made his way back to the Impala.

It was time to talk to the newly human Crowley.

…

The former demon glared at Dean once the hunter had pulled him from the trunk and ripped the duct tape off his mouth, eliciting a yell of pain.

"Well?" he said after a moment of just standing outside the entrance to the bunker, "Aren't you going to invite me inside your little man cave?

Dean crossed his arms and adopted a strong stance.

"And what makes you think you can stay here?" Dean countered.

Crowley looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Well you can't just abandon me out here, I know your pet moose closed hell and all but there are still demons on this earth and once word spreads that I've joined the rebel alliance they'll be out for my head. Not to mention all the angels that have been set loose."

"Yeah, I'm not seeing how this is my problem."

"Look! I didn't ask for this all right? I didn't ask to be saved! I didn't ask to be cured! You went to hell for four months and it felt like forty years, well I've been dead for three centuries! You cannot imagine what you have done to me!" his breathing was heavy by the time he finished.

Dean contemplated the words. The guy did have a point.

"Besides," Crowley continued, "I can be useful to you."

Dean raised his eyebrow in a silent command to go on.

"I have knowledge and _resources_."

Dean looked thoughtful. It would be nice not having to rely so heavily on pool hustling and credit card fraud anymore.

"Plus." He added, "I know where the prophet's mother is."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Mrs. Tran's still alive?"

Crowley nodded.

"And I'll take you to her so long as you promise to let me stay."

Dean considered the deal. On the one hand, he didn't trust Crowley, even as a human. But it was true that he had a vast amount of knowledge at his disposal, not to mention the money. And Linda…

"Alright, but no leaving the bunker without either Sam's or my permission. Got it?"

Crowley sighed and nodded before Dean grabbed him and dragged him inside.

Kevin did not react well to Crowley's presence and it took a few tries for Dean to get a word in edgewise.

"Kevin, Kevin, KEVIN!"

Kevin cut off, breathing hard, his fists shaking and tears swimming in his eyes.

"Your mother's alive," Crowley said in the silence that followed, "and I know where she is."

Kevin stood stock still, staring at the former king of hell.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

Kevin moved forward slowly with deliberate steps and fierce eyes locked on Crowley's. He came to a halt in front of the man.

"My mother's alive?" he whispered, voice wobbling with emotion.

Crowley nodded.

"You know where she is?"

Crowley nodded.

"And you'll take me to her?"

Again, Crowley nodded.

"Okay." Kevin said decisively, "You can stay."

Then he threw a punch that knocked the former King of Hell on his ass.

"WHERE'S MY MOM!"

…

They found Mrs. Tran in a storage facility in Wichita along with a young girl named Candy and some kid named Jerome. After seeing to other two off safely, they headed back to the bunker where Sam, in his weakened state, had stayed to hold the fort.

A week passed with no word from Cas. They had tracked him though Iowa and Indiana, losing track of him in Michigan, but with Linda Tran recovering from the torture she'd received at the hands of a man who was now living with them in the bunker and Sam still too weak to get out of bed some days, he hadn't been able to leave to go look for the guy no matter how much it killed him not to go.

Then one evening, when Dean was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner with Sam helping from the chair he was still using occasionally when walking became too much, Dean's cell phone rang, vibrating loudly against the stainless steel countertop.

Dean picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID but the number was unknown. He pressed the button to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Dean?" The voice was weak and pained but utterly familiar and it sent a jolt of relief though the hunter.

"Cas?" he asked. After five days of nothing from the fallen angel Dean's heart was hammering in his chest at the sound of that voice.

Across the kitchen, Sam looked up.

"Where are you?" Dean asked.

"Lebanon." The answer came, still in that breathy hitched tone. Dean knew that tone. It was the tone of someone in pain, someone attempting to speak through waves of agony.

"Are you okay? You sound hurt."

A grunt was heard down the line and then Castiel breathing heavily.

"Some men wanted money. But I didn't have any. They did not believe me."

"Shit." He swore, striding out of the room and grabbing his coat and keys. "Where are you exactly?"

Cas gave him the street name and some nearby landmarks to help the hunter pinpoint his location.

"Okay. Stay on the line. I'm coming to get you." He held the phone to his chest and turned to Sam. "Cas is in town. He got mugged so I'm going to go get him."

Sam nodded, concern for the angel evident in his face.

"Okay."

…

Dean got to the street corner Cas had given him and stepped out of the Impala, looking around frantically for the injured man, he'd stopped responding about a mile back and Dean was now in full panic mode.

"Cas!"

A noise alerted him to a nearby phone booth that stood defaced and decrepit on the curbside and when Dean got there he saw Castiel, bruised and bleeding, slumped in the corner.

"Cas!" he went to the angel, former angel, falling to his knees and grabbing his face, "Cas!"

Slowly, his eyes opened, blue peeking through the slits and dark eyelashes.

"Dean." He said softly, almost inaudibly.

"Come on, let's get you up."

Dean lifted Cas, grabbing him around his torso as Cas' arms came up to wrap around Dean's neck. He managed to get the two of them to the car, Cas stumbling along side him.

Dean raced back to the bunker.

Once they were back and settled in Dean's room, Dean had a chance to assess him. He wasn't wearing his customary suit and trench coat and Dean wondered idly where he had gotten new clothes and what had happened to the old ones. It was odd to see Cas in a different outfit. It had only happened a handful of times and none of those were particularly good memories: Future Cas, Emmanuel, Crazy Cas.

This Cas was currently sitting on his bed, struggling with his coat and sweater. Dean helped him off with it and noticed the blood soaked bandage on his right arm.

"Shit Cas what happened?"

Cas looked where Dean's gaze was.

"Oh." He remarked, looking back at Dean, "Yes. Angels have been hunting me. One got close."

"And?"

"I stabbed him." Cas deadpanned.

Dean nodded his approval.

"Good."

He helped Cas divest himself of the rest of his layers exposing his abused torso.

"Jesus, those guys really did a number on you huh." He asked, prompting Cas to lie back against the pillows as he checked for injuries.

"Yes." Cas hissed as Dean began prodding his ribcage, making sure none of them were cracked or broken, "It was fortunate that I found some change on the ground with which to make a phone call."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Dean paused in his ministrations to look up at Cas. Their eyes met and the heat that Dean had come to expect whenever he found himself alone and in close proximity to the former angel rose as he raised his hand and brushed his thumb over the scratches and bruises on his face. The guy's lip had split and Dean wiped away some of the blood that had accumulated.

Castiel's breathing increased.

For a long moment they just sat there, staring at each other before Dean realized what he was doing and broke the eye contact, clearing his throat, dropping his hand, and looking away. What was this a Stephanie Meyer novel? Shifting in his place beside Cas so that he was a few millimeters further away from the newly human angel, Dean brought his attention back to Cas's battered torso.

"What's this?" he asked, fingers skimming lightly over the dark symbols etched in ink.

Castiel shivered from the touch.

"Enochian wards. To keep me hidden from the angels."

Dean nodded, taking in the tattoo, heat pooling in his belly at the idea of an inked up Castiel.

"You got yourself a nice collection of bruises Cas." He joked, changing the subject and running his fingers over the soft, discoloured skin.

Castiel, hissed as Dean came upon a particularly dark patch.

"Sorry." He murmured, moving on until he'd checked the entire area.

"Looks like you've got mostly bruised, a few broken ribs. They'll take about a month to heal and you may have some trouble breathing in the meantime but you'll be fine." He moved over to check the wound on his upper arm.

"If you want, you can shower before I clean and wrap this up."

Cas nodded.

"Yes, it would be nice to bathe."

"Alright, bathroom's down the hall, there are towels and feel free to use any of Sam's fancy hair stuff." He moved to his dresser, pulling out some sweats and a t-shirt, "Here." He said, handing him the clothes, "Come to the kitchen after, I'll make you some food."

Cas stood staring at the clothing in his hands before looking up at the green-eyed hunter.

"Thank you Dean." He said, his words heavy with meaning.

Dean smiled and clapped him on his uninjured shoulder.

"No problem."

…

Dean heard the creak of gears as Sam wheeled his way into the kitchen. He was getting stronger with every passing day and after almost a week he was strong enough to stand and walk around but he still tired easily.

"How's Cas?" he asked, coming to stop beside Dean who was putting together a sandwich for the guy.

"He's banged up pretty good. Broke a few ribs. Took some hits to the face, but he'll survive."

Sam nodded.

"Good. So he'll be staying here?"

Dean raised his hands.

"Where else is he gonna go? Guy's human now, he needs looking after."

"Right." Sam agreed, "So…" he trailed off suggestively.

Dean licked crumbs off his finger as he finished assembling the sandwich and turned to his brother, one eyebrow raised.

"So what?"

Sam sighed, trying to get Dean to talk about anything deeper than what Led Zeppelin song was arguably the best was like pulling teeth.

"So, since Castiel is going to be sticking around indefinitely are you going to tell him how you really feel about him so that you two can finally stop dancing around each other and save everyone having to watch you two eye-fucking every time you're together?"

"What the hell are you talking about? We don't do that."

Sam shot him a look that quite clearly said 'bitch please'.

Dean cleared his throat and started putting the condiments away.

"Look Cas and I…we're just good friends alright? Yeah, maybe I have some…feelings for the guy but that doesn't mean he has the same feelings for me."

"Trust me Dean he does. Look," Sam wheeled around the table and over to Dean, "This isn't about whether or not Cas has feelings for you."

Dean shot him a withering glance.

"Oh it's not Dr. Phil?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, it's not. It's about you thinking you can't have the things you want; it's about you being afraid to open yourself up to something because you might get hurt.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever Samantha."

Sam sighed.

"You know I'm right."

Sam chose to interpret his brother's silence as tacit agreement.

"Just talk to him okay? Tell him how you feel or I swear Dean I will lock you two in the dungeon until you do."

Dean opened his mouth to retort when Cas appeared in the entrance, his hair still damp from the shower, and wearing Dean's sweatpants and old AC/DC t-shirt. The words died on his lips as he took in the sight of Cas in his clothes and decided he rather liked the look of it. _Really_ liked the look of it.

"Hey Castiel." Sam greeted.

"Hello Sam." Cas answered, moving gingerly to the table where Dean was setting the sandwich down.

"Here," Dean said, retrieving the first aid kit, "tuck into that while I patch up your shoulder."

Cas sat, wincing as his ribs protested at the movement, his mouth curving upwards at the sight of the food.

"Thank you for this," He looked up at Dean, his gaze intense, "for everything."

Dean looked into the deep blue eyes, inches away from his own as Dean cleansed the wound. He stared transfixed, lost in the depths, a feeling of utter calm and peace flowing through him.

He cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact and glancing away.

Sam was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Dean glared and went back to Cas' injury.

"No problem Cas."

"So, Cas, what happened?" Sam asked.

Castiel explained as he ate about Hael and her attempt to capture him, about the angels that had pursued him, and how he had eventually made it to Lebanon.

"I ran out of money in Detroit and I ended up hitching rides until I made it here. And then those two men demanded money. I tried to fight them off but a third showed up and they…"

"Beat the crap out of you?" Dean offered.

Cas dropped his head.

"Yes." He murmured, shame colouring his words.

Dean felt a surge of guilt and, with Sam glaring at him, tried to console the guy.

"Hey, at least you held your own with three guys against you, most people can't even defend themselves against one."

Cas looked up, gratitude slowly overcoming the shame.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Sam beaming at him.

Dean mentally flipped him off and began to apply a bandage to Cas' arm.

"So Cas, why didn't you call me?"

Castiel looked away again.

"The angels were after me. I…I didn't want to bring them down on you."

Dean sighed and began to pack away the kit.

"Next time, not that there's going to be a next time mind, but if there is you pick up the phone and you call. Got it?"

Cas looked up and nodded somberly.

"Good. Now, you finish up, I'm going to make you up a bed."

He patted Cas' good shoulder as he passed him out of the kitchen and if he let his hand linger on the fallen angel then so what?


	8. Chapter 8

Sam watched his brother leave, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"So Sam. How are you?" Castiel narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the hunter.

Sam shrugged.

"Still weak, still gotta use this thing most of the time," He indicated the wheelchair, "but good. I seem to be healing on my own; I feel a little better each day."

Castiel nodded.

"Dean said that you died."

"Yeah."

"For several minutes."

Sam shifted in the chair.

"Yes."

Castiel contemplated the hunter, head tilted.

"And you have no memory of being dead?"

Sam took in a deep breath.

"Not really, I mean, I remember feeling…at rest, peaceful, like everything had fallen the way it should and I could just…let go of everything. And then I was alive again and I knew I had been dead."

"And how do you feel now?"

Sam frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you felt at peace. How do you feel now that that has been taken away from you?"

Sam considered the question.

"I feel fine." He nodded, "It was a nice feeling but I don't feel like I miss it or want it back if that's what you're getting at."

Castiel nodded, bringing his attention back to his sandwich.

"That probably means it was unlikely a malevolent force that brought you back."

"Oh." Sam replied, "Good."

"What do you think it was?" Castiel's eyes were back on Sam's face and he shifted in the chair, shaking his head.

"I honestly don't know. The tablet said 'whosoever choses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger nor death' and the tasks were set by God…"

Castiel looked contemplative, chewing and swallowing deliberately before saying pensively, "Abraham and Issac."

"What?"

He looked up at Sam.

"The biblical tale of Abraham and Issac. You know it?"

Sam frowned and nodded.

"Yeah, umm, Abraham and his wife Sarah couldn't have children but when they were old, God gave them a son, Issac, and then God commanded Abraham to sacrifice Issac in order to show his faith."

Castiel nodded.

"God needed Abraham to be unyielding in his faith but moreover, he needed Abraham to _know_ this and the only way to truly know something is to experience it. The tablet said he who attempts the trials should not fear death; it is one thing to _say_ you do not fear death but another thing entirely to _know_ it."

"But I _was_ afraid." Sam admitted in a small voice.

"But you did it anyway, regardless of your fear because you knew it was the right thing to do; because it would save many people. Abraham did not want to kill Issac. It tore at him to do so. But he knew that Issac had been given to him by God and that if God wanted him back…" Castiel trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Sam contemplated the words.

"Do you really think it was right for God to ask that of Abraham?"

Castiel sat back, his eyes pitched upwards.

"At the time I thought I did. I did not question it. Now…" He shrugged looking more lost and confused than ever, "I am not sure what I believe. I have been resurrected time and again and I have come to believe it is a punishment, to be denied relief from the guilt of the things I have done, the mistakes I have made, the people I have hurt, killed." He turned his gaze on Sam, "But I would like to believe that my father has not truly abandoned us; that your second chance is a blessing and that despite all that has happened, he still with us, watching. I know that he would never have allowed Issac to die. And I would like to believe that despite everything, he still knows what is best. I would like to believe that but…"

"Maybe that's all faith has to be. Wanting to believe something, despite all the evidence to the contrary."

Castiel's eyes seemed to soften.

"Yes." He murmured, "Perhaps that is enough for now."

They sat in silence for a few moments, ruminating on the philosophical conversation.

"Hey Cas…" Sam said suddenly, switching gears, "How do you feel about Dean?"

Castiel frowned.

"He is a good friend-" he began.

"Yeah, I know," Sam interrupted, seeing that he had to be more specific, "But how do you _feel_ about him?" he asked with emphasis.

Castiel's frown deepened.

"Are you attempting to imply something?"

Sam sighed, deciding to ditch subtlety. This was Castiel after all.

"Are you in love with Dean?"

Castiel looked taken aback at the frankness of Sam's inquiry.

"Umm I-" he swallowed.''

"'Cause it's totally cool if you are."

Castiel glanced up at Sam.

"I–I don't really know."

"Well," Sam said, "Let's start with how you feel about him. You once said you share a profound bond with Dean, what does that mean exactly?"

"When I rescued Dean from hell, his soul was…damaged, in tatters. Nothing compared to what you went through in the cage, but it had begun to twist, to taint. It was in the very earliest stages of becoming a demon."

Sam's stomach churned. He never liked being reminded about his brother's time in hell, knowing that Dean had gone there for him and still remembered every second of it.

"Dean's treatment at the hands of Alistair was unusual. The torture in hell is typically slower, building up over centuries. After all, once you're there, you're there for all eternity. But Alistair knew Dean was the righteous man, that if he could break Dean he could start the apocalypse, so Dean's torture was extreme, even by hell standards."

Sam was stunned.

"Does Dean know this?"

Castiel shook his head.

"Dean has never reacted well to the subject of his time there and I have never found a good time to tell him."

"Well you should, it might really help him if he knew."

Castiel nodded.

"Anyway. It took a great deal of effort to heal Dean, in both body and soul and when I finished a trace amount of my grace was left in him. Through it, he and I are connected, irrevocably. Even with mine gone, I can still feel the remnants in him."

Sam absorbed the information.

"But in terms of how I feel about him." He shifted in his seat, "I…I find myself thinking about him…often. Concerned for his safety and wishing I could ease his pain both physical and emotional, and sometimes, when I am close to him, or he touches me, my vessel's heart beats so fast; like that man whose heart tore out of his chest. It is either love or fear and since I do not fear Dean perhaps…I love him?"

Sam couldn't help smiling at the angel's thought process.

"Yeah Cas, I think you just might."

"The problem is I do not think he reciprocates. I have observed that he only shows attraction to females and though in my original form I have no gender, Dean has only known me in a male body. Plus, surely if he felt this way towards me he would have made his interest known somehow. He is not shy, especially when it comes to these kinds of things."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Trust me Cas, he's attracted to you. But he's just too stubborn to make the first move. Which is why I think you should do it."

"But Sam, I don't know what move it is I am meant to make."

Sam's face coloured, no way was he coaching Cas on how to come on to his brother.

"Just, tell him what you just told me; about how he makes you feel."

Castiel stared at his empty plate and nodded.

"Okay." He looked over at Sam. "Thank you Sam. You are a good brother. Dean is lucky to have you."

He stood, wincing as the movement irritated his injuries, and brought the plate over to the sink. "I wish that we had met under better circumstances."

"You mean when I _wasn't_ addicted to demon blood?"

Castiel gave a small smile and nodded.

"Yeah me too." Sam agreed.

"Perhaps we could start over. I enjoyed our conversation. It was something I doubt Dean would be interested in."

Sam nodded his agreement.

"Goodnight Sam."

"Goodnight Cas."

…

Castiel found Dean in his room, dressed for bed and lying on top of the covers with his headphones on and his eyes closed.

He knocked but Dean did not respond. Castiel figured the music was too loud since he could hear it faintly from his position by the door.

He stepped slowly and cautiously into the room, knowing it was never a good idea to sneak up on a Winchester.

Dean cracked an eye open.

"Hey Cas." He said, slipping the headphones off and sitting up against the pillows, "I uh, made you up a bed in the room across the hall."

Cas glanced that way and nodded.

"Thank you." He said before coming to sit in front of Dean on the bed.

"What is it?" Dean asked when Cas didn't say anything.

Castiel had been so bolstered by his discussion with Sam that he had come to Dean with every intention of telling the hunter how he felt, but now, sitting here with him in such close proximity, the fallen angel was beginning to lose his nerve.

"I ummm…"

"Cas buddy, what's wrong?" Dean shifted closer. "You're shaking."

Castiel looked down at his hands to find that they were indeed quaking and his breathing had sped up to match the pounding of his heart.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Dean was now flush with him, his hands on Castiel's shoulders, "Do you have more injuries that you didn't tell me about because so help me Cas…"

Castiel looked up into Dean's eyes looking back at him with such concern. Their faces were inches apart, sharing breath and space and suddenly all Castiel wanted to do was press his lips against Dean's.

So he did.

Jolts of electricity spread through Cas' body, similar to, but much more powerful than, the ones he had experienced when kissing Meg. Castiel's hands came up to cup Dean's face and he turned his body to face Dean's before pulling away, his hands remaining on Dean's cheek.

It took a few seconds for Dean to remember how to talk.

"Uhh…wha…what was that Cas?"

Cas just stared back with his usual intense gaze.

"I just kissed you Dean."

He was frowning at the hunter confused at the need for him to have explained his actions.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah Cas, that part I got. I meant why?"

Cas seemed to have realized that he still held Dean's face in his hands because he blushed and lowered them, leaning back from Dean.

"I apologize for not giving you more warning but I have wanted to do that for some years and now seemed like a good time to try."

Dean blinked.

"Years?" he asked.

Cas nodded.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you try sooner?"

Cas shifted in his seat.

"I am aware that many humans are…uncomfortable with exploring alternative sexualities. I did not wish to 'frighten you away'." Castiel brought his hands up to cast inverted commas around the last words and Dean smirked at the angel's attempt at nuance. It still needed some work.

"Well." He said quietly, reaching out a hand to rest on Cas' knee, "I'm glad you finally did."

Castiel's eyes widened in pleasure and Dean noticed his shoulders relaxing. Had he really been that terrified?

Cas' smile faded somewhat as something occurred to him.

"Did I do it right? I have observed many kisses during my existence but I have not had much practical experience."

Dean smiled at Cas' nervous ramblings. Yep, definitely terrified.

"Cas." Castiel closed his mouth and bit his bottom lip. "It was awesome."

Cas' smile grew.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah."

He reached up a hand to cup Cas' cheek, running his fingers over the ever-present scruff. Cas leaned into it slightly and Dean took the opportunity to bring his lips to the fallen angel's. Dean moved his lips and Cas followed suit and the moan that escaped from between Cas' lips was downright sinful and pretty soon Dean had a lap-full of eager angel.

Dean's arms moved around Cas' back and Cas' hands ended up in Dean's hair and Dean for the life of him couldn't figure out why they hadn't done this years ago.

When they finally broke apart, Cas looked so debauched Dean would be surprised if they ever let him back into heaven even if they did somehow get his grace back and found someway to reopen heaven.

"Well?" he asked, smirking at the still incoherent angel sitting in his lap.

"I think I finally understand."

"Understand what?"

"The human preoccupation with sexual desire. Why it governs all your actions and decisions."

Dean leered.

"Oh Cas, you have no idea."

He pulled Castiel forwards, intent on attacking his lips again and good God did it feel good, but Cas gasped suddenly and not in a nice, sexy way but in an 'I just remembered I have several bruised and broken ribs' way.

"Oh shit, sorry Cas." He loosened his grip and Cas leaned into him, resting his face in the crook of Dean's neck and breathing heavily through his nose. Dean ran his hands lightly over the former angel's back. "You okay?"

He felt Cas nod against his neck before pulling away, pain shining through his eyes.

"I am not accustomed to experiencing this level of pain."

"Here," he grabbed a pill bottle from his bedside table and shook out two white tablets, handing them to Cas along with a glass of water, "I was going to give them to you before but well…I got kind of distracted." He grinned suggestively, raising his eyebrows and Castiel seemed to have caught on because he too smiled as he swallowed the pills.

"Thank you Dean." He said softly, his gaze intense.

Dean brought his hand up to caress the other man's cheek, rubbing across the growth of beard and tangling in his hair, his gaze growing sad.

"Are you sure you want this Cas?"

Castiel frowned.

"By 'this' do you mean you?"

Dean ducked his head and Castiel reached out a hand to raise it, frowning and tilting his head.

"Why don't you believe you are worthy of love Dean Winchester?"

Dean swallowed, feeling vulnerable and exposed beneath the Angel's intense gaze, a feeling he was decidedly not comfortable with.

"Because," he began softly, swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat, "because nothing I've ever loved has ever lasted. Everyone leaves eventually."

Castiel looked at him with sad eyes, knowing that, with the lives they led, he too couldn't promise not to leave.

"Why should that prevent you loving anyway?"

A tear slipped from Dean's eyes.

"Because it hurts too damn much when it goes."

Castiel sighed and leant in, kissing the tear away.

"I will never willingly leave you Dean." He said, stroking his thumb over the hunter's cheekbone and seeing the pain of loss that Dean still carried with him shine through his bright green eyes.

Dean pulled them down gently onto the bed, pulling the covers out and over them and guiding Castiel down to rest on his shoulder, his head in the crook of Dean's neck, wrapping his arms around the man and reveling in the feeling of Cas' arms around him.

"I won't ever leave you willingly either."

He felt Cas smile against his neck.

"I know Dean. You have never let me down. Despite all I have done to you, you have always believed in me."

Dean felt the compliment settle uneasily in his stomach as they always did, never feeling deserving of the praise. He kissed the top of the angel's head in answer and reached over to turn the light off.

"It is very nice to finally be able to sleep in a bed. At the shelter all we had were cots, which, I was reliably informed, are not proper beds. After that I slept in an abandoned bus, well until an angel tried to kill me. Then I slept in cars and in alleyways and on benches…I never realized how difficult it was being human. I find sleep particularly troubling…" he trailed off. Dean smiled, half-asleep as he listened to the angel ramble on, "Dean, may I ask you a question?"

"Mhmm." Dean murmured in agreement.

"This man, who shared his supper with me, told me to try counting sheep. But there were no sheep."

Dean laughed.

"It's a technique for falling asleep. The idea is, you do something really monotonous, like counting sheep, and it's so boring that you just drift off. The trick to falling asleep is that you can't think too hard about it, you gotta just let it happen."

"But I still don't understand, where are the sheep?"

Dean shifted and pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead.

"They're in you mind. Picture a field full of sheep and then try counting all of them."

"Ah I understand, they're imaginary sheep."

"Mhmm." Dean replied, already drifting off.

"Goodnight Dean."

"Night Cas."


	9. Chapter 9

So 'the talk' is coming. I promise. I have it all laid out in my mind, I just have to get it down in writing. I'm planning on this story follow the season 9 storyline with some obvious differences (like no Mark of Cain for example and no Kevin dying).

Again, please let me know if there's a Destiel scenario you'd like to see and I'll see if I can fit it in somewhere.

I want to say thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and/or reviewed. It is a wonderful feeling to know that other people are enjoying something that you've created.

Enjoy!

...

Dean woke abruptly, snapping from sleeping to waking with no transition in between, a habit borne from a lifetime of being on guard. He felt rested, more rested than he could ever remember feeling before.

The lights in the room were dim. Since the bunker had no natural light, all the lighting was on a timer to simulate the day/night cycle.

Dean shifted around to check the time. Seven thirty am. They had gone to sleep around eleven thirty the previous night which mean he had slept for eight hours. Eight hours of straight uninterrupted sleep. That had not happened in longer than Dean cared to remember. He was lucky if he could get through four hours without being woken by Sam or some catastrophe or a nightmare.

Nightmares, he hadn't had any nightmares.

He glanced over at the man lying next to him, his face relaxed in sleep, arm thrown carelessly over Dean's torso.

Castiel. Castiel was lying next to him. Castiel had fallen asleep cuddled into his side. Castiel, a guy - or a former angel in a male vessel - had kissed him last night.

Dean's breathing picked up as memories of his father flooded in and threatened to overwhelm him; yelling, calling him names, tearing down any confidence he may have built up when it had been just him and Mike. And then later, coming home blind drunk, swearing and stumbling, a state that didn't bode well at the best of times. And then the fear and pain and shame that had taken over when his drunken father had pushed him down onto the bed and ra-

Dean struggled to cut the memory short, biting his lip and fighting to suppress the panic attack, willing his breathing to even out and his body to stop shaking.

John Winchester wasn't here anymore. John Winchester couldn't hurt him.

Slowly he got his breathing back under control and he rolled over onto his side so he was face to face with the sleeping man. He thought back to the kiss again, focusing on how good it had felt; the heat, the passion, how right it had felt to fall asleep with Castiel in his arms. Dean had never felt that before, not even with Cassie or Lisa had he felt so totally at peace with another person.

Suddenly Dean wanted, needed to kiss Cas, to remind himself that this was real, that last night had actually happened, as though Cas being here asleep in his bed wasn't proof enough.

Dean brought his head forward and touched Cas' lips with his own, reveling in the wave of pleasure that washed over him as he did so. It took a few moments for the sleeping man to respond but soon enough Cas had opened his mouth and Dean had slipped his tongue in and Castiel made a sound that went straight to Dean's groin. He pulled away, terrified of what would happen if they kept going. He really didn't want to have a flashback or panic attack in front of Cas.

He moved back, taking in the sight of Castiel's sleepy eyes blinking open, a silly grin on his face.

"That is a very pleasant way to wake up." He said, his voice lower and gruffer than ever with sleep.

After a moment though, the grin had been replace with a grimace of pain as his ribs reminded him painfully that he had been quite badly injured the previous day.

Without a word, Dean retrieved the bottle of painkillers from his bedside table along with his glass of water.

"Here." he said, shaking out two and handing them to the injured man.

Castiel thanked Dean and took them. Once Castiel was finished with the glass, Dean placed it back on the side table before turning back.

"Let's have a look at how you're healing." He said, grabbing the hem of Cas' t-shirt and helping the ex-angel pull it up and off. Dean checked the other man's ribs, making sure nothing had been punctured and that there was no internal bleeding. Satisfied that everything was healing as it should, Dean looked up to find blue eyes watching him intently.

"What?" he asked softly, his fingers lingering on the bare chest, skimming over the smooth skin and Enochian tattoo.

Castiel's eyes were intense with desire as Dean's hands stoked over his bare skin. So many sensations were new to him in this form, more intense now that he did not have his grace to absorb and translate the brunt of the information collected by his human vessel.

There were many things he could no longer sense. As an angel he could see everything. All the atoms and chemicals and molecules that made up all that there was, the building blocks of the universe, constantly in motion, constantly shifting, growing, changing. He had been able to see too, what the humans saw, the whole picture as it were. That was what he saw now and, though a part of him missed the wider picture, he was much more interested in exploring the flood of feelings he was now experiencing without the filter of his angelic self.

He was fascinated by hunger, exhaustion, arousal. How he had felt last night when he had thrown caution to the wind and captured Dean's lips, finally doing what he had spent years imagining. Lying here in the semi-darkness he reveled in the sensation of Dean's hands on his bare skin. How could such minimal physical contact have such a profound effect on his body? He watched Dean hovering over him, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he concentrated fully on Castiel's injuries. A surge of gratitude and contentment, far stronger than anything he would have been capable of feeling as an angel, flowed through him at the sight and he suddenly felt very lucky to have found someone who was so dedicated to taking care of him. Dean may have not been an emotionally demonstrative man, preferring to keep his feelings hidden, but they shone through clearly in his actions; in his determination to keep those he loved safe and his dedication to his family and friends.

Dean raised his eyes, catching Castiel's own and the serious expression melted into a peaceful smile.

"What?" he asked softly and Castiel noted that he kept his hand on Cas' chest, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin in a way that was decidedly pleasant.

"I was just thinking about how thankful I am to have you in my life." he said, his tone sincere.

The words seemed to have an effect on Dean because the hunter dropped his head. Castiel could see colour rising in Dean's cheeks and wondered momentarily if he had said something wrong.

"I'm not all that special Cas." he said in a voice that Cas had come to learn meant he was trying to mask his deeper emotions.

For a long time Castiel had been baffled by the behavior. After all, why would one want to misdirect one's own emotions? Why did humans never say what they felt? But after over a week of being human, Castiel had come to see that emotions were perplexing and intense and, more often than not, upsetting and, though humans had a lifetime to learn how to interpret and deal with them, perhaps not all succeeded. Perhaps Dean had never learned to deal with the deeper more complex ones.

"You are to me Dean." He replied truthfully.

Dean looked up, his green eyes full of something that might have been hope and Castiel thought that Dean's emotions were closer to the surface than he'd ever seen them. The expression made the hunter seem somehow much younger. Castiel reached up his hand, caressing Dean's cheek and then pulling the hunter's face down to meet his own in a kiss that managed to express everything Castiel had wanted to say to Dean but hadn't know how. Perhaps it was the same as the way Dean expressed his love through his actions.

The kiss ended and Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's, eyes closed, drinking in the moment.

The rumble of hunger from Cas' stomach interrupted said moment.

"I am in need of sustenance." Cas said in his usual formal style, then added. "I also have to urinate."

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh.

"First of all, don't ever say that, it's 'go to the bathroom'. Second, what do you want for breakfast, eggs or pancakes?"

Castiel frowned.

"I have never tried eggs. But I did have pancakes at the shelter and I quite enjoyed them."

Dean considered.

"Well, we need to broaden your culinary horizons so why don't I just make both?"

…

Castiel entered the kitchen to find Dean standing with his back to the entrance, mixing pancake batter. He paused in the doorway for a moment to observe the man. He was dressed as Castiel was in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, socks coving his feet to ward off the cold floors of the underground bunker. Castiel watched, fascinated, as the muscles in his back flexed a worked as he whipped the batter, visible though the thin cotton of the shirt he wore.

An idea came to Castiel, a scene he'd seen in some TV show or movie, and he suddenly wanted to know what it would actually feel like, so, stepping forward to where Dean was standing facing away from him, Castiel moved in closer, snaking his arms out and around Dean's torso and pressing his chest flush with Dean's back. He raised his chin to rest on Dean's shoulder and delighted in the rush of endorphins that flooded though him at the contact.

Dean started at the unexpected touch but soon relaxed when he realized who it was. He abandoned the batter and moved his hands to cover Castiel's leaning back into the warm, solid body behind him. He chuckled.

"Good morning." He greeted.

"Good morning." Castiel answered. Dean could feel Cas' deep voice vibrating through the angel's chest and into his back, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure surging through his body.

He turned, facing the former angel, still encircled in his arms and brought his lips down to meet Cas'.

Cas did not think he would ever tire of this particular activity.

They broke apart and Dean brought his hand up to stroke over the week's worth of beard that had grown on the angel's face.

"We gotta teach you how to shave. Unless you want to keep this."

Castiel scratched thoughtfully at the whiskers.

"It is a little itchy and annoying."

Dean nodded.

"After breakfast."

He leaned down to kiss the angel again.

A throat clearing sounded from the kitchen entrance. Dean looked up to find Sam standing in the doorway, grinning inanely.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your little make out session?"

"Shut up," Dean shot back, turning back to the pancake mix, "Now get over here and cook the bacon."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes but made his way slowly over to the stove, lighting an element and retrieving a pan before tuning to the package of bacon on the counter.

"You are walking." Castiel observed, "Are you feeling better?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I've been getting stronger everyday. Probably won't need the chair much longer which will be nice since most of this place isn't exactly handicapped friendly."

Castiel nodded and turned to Dean.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Dean pulled over a bowl, fork and a dozen eggs.

"You can scramble the eggs."

Dean finished with the pancake batter and took it over to the stove for Sam to start cooking. When he turned back, he sighed as he watched Castiel peering intently at the egg as he cracked it one handed, letting the white and yolk spill over his fingers and into the bowl.

"No not like that…here."

He moved to stand beside the fallen angel, showing him the correct way to crack an egg and scramble them. Sam got the bacon and pancakes underway and then turned to watch his brother and Castiel. The change was palpable. Dean was relaxed, smiling; he had one hand draped across the angel's back and was huddled in close to Castiel's space. Sam had never seen his brother physically demonstrative with anyone. Most of the time Dean didn't like to be touched, especially when it wasn't on his terms, and even then only in times of high emotion.

Sam hoped this would work. He hoped Dean and Cas could keep this going, that Dean wouldn't sabotage it, unconsciously or not. He knew Dean had many issues to work through and that he would need to talk to Cas about them if they had any hope of lasting.

Feeling eyes watching him, Dean turned to find Sam leaning against the stove.

"What are you looking at?"

"He's looking at you being all cuddly with your boyfriend." Said a gruff, accented voice from the kitchen door. Dean turned to see Crowley making his way over to the coffee machine, "About damn time too."

Dean frowned.

"What did everybody know?"

"Yes." Kevin answered, entering the kitchen with his mom. Crowley stepped forward with a cup of coffee extended towards the prophet. Kevin glared and did not accept the peace offering, instead pushing past the former demon and retrieving his own cup.

Castiel exchanged pleasantries with Kevin and his mother and even Crowley, despite the awkwardness of it. Then again, everyone had been a little awkward around Crowley since he'd been cured. The former demon kept mostly to himself holed up in his room. Occasionally he would emerge for food or a book but even then he was subdued.

Breakfast was soon ready and everyone sat down around the table. Castiel was caught up on everything that had happened in the bunker and in turn, Castiel told them all what had happened to him since he fell.

"So why are angels after you?"

Castiel sighed.

"Because they think I was in league with Metatron. They think I know how he cast the angels out and therefore how we might go about opening heaven."

"Well, I have the angel tablet. If anyone's going to figure out how to do that it's us."

"Until then," Dean added, "You'll stay here."

Cas looked around at the unlikely collection of people seated around the table.

"Thank you all so much for allowing me to stay. This past week has been…difficult. I hadn't realized how hard it was being human. I know I'll learn a lot from you."

After breakfast was cleaned up, Dean took Cas into the bathroom to teach him how to shave.

"Alright so first you want to wash your face with warm water to soften the hair."

He demonstrated and Castiel followed suit.

"Then you want to apply shaving cream."

He squirted a dollop onto his hand before handing the can to Cas and spreading the cream over his five o'clock shadow. Once they were both lathered up, Dean demonstrated the correct way of holding a razor and which direction to shave in. Castiel only nicked himself a few times which Dean was hasty to point out was pretty good for his first time.

After wiping their faces clean, Castiel picked up the tube of toothpaste and brought it up to squirt into his mouth.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

Cas looked sideways at him, his tongue sticking out. He pulled it back in hesitantly.

"Umm, brushing my teeth?" he said.

"Usually you just squirt the toothpaste onto the brush."

"Oh," Castiel reddened as he picked up the toothbrush, sounding mortified, "I…I didn't know."

"Hey it's okay. Doesn't really matter anyhow, so long as your teeth get cleaned right?"

Cas nodded and watched Dean as he applied toothpaste to the brush, wetting it under the tap before bringing it up to his mouth, copying the hunter's actions.

Once their teeth were brushed and mouths rinsed, Dean smiled and turned to Cas. He brought his hand up to the other man's newly shaven cheeks, running his thumb over the smooth skin and leaning down to press their lips together. They kissed for a few moments, tongues exploring each other's mouths before Dean trailed off, kissing a line down Cas' jaw and neck to a spot just under Castiel's ear where Dean stopped because Cas fucking mewled and god damn if that wasn't hot.

He pulled back again, feeling blood rushing south. He didn't know how long he'd be able to continue cutting these make out sessions short before Cas started asking questions. Hopefully the newly-human angel's abundance of naivety would hold him off for a while but not forever. Dean knew that eventually he and Cas would need to 'talk'. He just hoped that when the time came, it didn't fill him with nearly as much terror as it was doing now.


	10. Chapter 10

So this takes place during 9x04. It basically follows the plot of the episode (with minor details changed and things added obviously) so if some of the dialogue sounds familiar, that's probably because I didn't write it and you're remembering it from the show.

Enjoy!

…

Castiel stood in the centre of the department store taking in the massive selection of menswear and feeling hugely overwhelmed as he did so. There was so much choice, too much choice. His experience of humanity up until now had largely consisted of scrounging for the bare minimum and now here he was, rested and fed and preparing to pick out whatever clothes he wanted, and he suddenly had no idea what to do. He looked over at Dean who was watching him.

"Well?" the hunter asked, "Where do you want to start?"

Cas looked back at the racks upon racks of pants and shirts and sweaters and jackets. He looked back at Dean.

"I have no idea."

Dean laughed and then took pity on the guy.

"Alright," he said, leading them over to a display of jeans, "we'll start with the basics."

After breakfast and a few hours spent lounging around the bunker in Dean's borrowed clothes, Dean had announced that Castiel needed a wardrobe of his own.

"It's not that I don't like seeing you in my clothes," Dean explained with a suggestive smile and wink that did strange things to Castiel's body, "but you really should have some things of your own."

So here they were in some mall with Dean throwing clothes at him, a new credit card courtesy of Crowley sitting in the hunter's wallet. This one had his name on it, his real name; _Dean Winchester _stamped right into the plastic for the first time in his life.

They got a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, pajamas, socks, and underwear. Dean dragged him to the footwear department to pick out a pair of sneakers and from there they made their way to formal attire.

"Just in case you end up coming with us on hunts." Dean said by way of explanation, then added with a smirk, "Maybe this time we'll actually get a suit that fits you."

Castiel didn't have the heart to tell Dean that he wouldn't be going on any hunts. Ever. He recalled the last time he tried to join Sam and Dean, his time as a third wheel. It hadn't work out well and now that he was human, he would probably prove to be worse than useless.

But he let Dean pick him out a suit anyway and while Dean was trying to decide between blue and black, Castiel fingered the tan overcoat on the mannequin he stood beside. It was similar to his old one but nicer, more fitted. Also it wasn't covered in blood, which was a plus. He missed his overcoat; missed what it had come to symbolize and the memories he had come to associate it with. He remembered when Dean had pulled it out of the trunk of his car after Castiel regained his memories. The way it had been washed and folded, taken care of, the last vestiges of Castiel Dean had to hold onto. He remembered the way Dean would sometimes straighten it when it had become disheveled because sometimes Castiel forgot about the cloths, they were just and extension of his vessel after all and a new concept to him. He remembered how it had felt like a safety blanket after he had taken on Sam's burden, when his mind was unstable, his thoughts elusive, forever flying away from him. He remembered using it to protect himself, arm himself as though, if he could wrap himself up in the old Castiel's coat, he could become that angel again, but better: more compassionate, more astute, less foolhardy.

"I think we should go with dark blue." Dean said finally and Cas dropped the sleeve like he had been burned and turned away. He wasn't that person anymore, that angel. He was a man now, powerless and useless.

He looked up at Dean who was holding out a suit and shirt with such a look of love in his expressive green eyes. No, not useless, not so long as he was responsible for putting that expression on Dean Winchester's face.

They bought the suit as well as a few shirts and ties and the Impala's trunk was filled as they headed back to the bunker, blasting classic rock and singing along; well, Dean was singing, Castiel was trying to learn the lyrics so that he could join in the next time.

...

Sam and Kevin were sitting at the map table when Dean and Cas got back, lugging their shopping down the stairs.

"Hey, how was the – woah." he exclaimed when he saw the mass amounts of bags each man was carrying. "So you guys bought some stuff than?"

"Yeah, you know, the basics. I also picked up season one Game of Thrones figure we're due for a break after everything that happened, I thought we might order some takeout…"

Sam nodded at Dena's suggestive shrug.

"What have you two geeks been up to?"

"Well," Sam said, sitting up in excitement. "I know you're warded Cas and the bunker is the safest place you could be but I was thinking that it might be helpful if we could track the angels. Make sure they don't get too close. Better safe than sorry right?"

Castiel nodded.

"It would also help to know if they were organizing, grouping onto factions."

Dean looked over.

"Is that likely?"

"They are lost, confused, and angry. Angels were not created to have free will like humans. We were created to follow orders. It's what we do best. I think the last few years have proved that we don't do well when we try to lead. I have faith that if the right angel were to take charge, he could unite heaven peacefully. But unfortunately I am not overly confident that the right angel is the one most likely to take power." His tone was sad as he ruminated on his fallen brothers and sisters and his own past mistakes.

Dean nodded, "Well, we'll just have to keep an eye on those dicks. What'd you guys come up with?"

"Well," Kevin said, sitting up, "This thing lit up like a Christmas tree when the angels fell. Turns out, every dot was where a cluster of angels fell. So we were thinking that maybe there was some way to hotwire it to make it track angels."

Dean looked impressed, "You come up with this?" he asked the young prophet.

Kevin looked over at the younger Winchester.

"Actually, it was Sam's idea."

"Awesome," he said, clapping his brother on the back, "So, how would it work?"

"We have no idea." Sam admitted, "At first, I thought the table was the computer but it's not, it's just a part of it. But we found these cables underneath and we followed them. You're never gonna believe what we found."

…

After trying, and failing, to discover how the computer worked or what was powering it, Dean turned to Kevin.

"You have any idea about this stuff?" he asked the former advanced placement student.

Kevin shook his head.

"I was always more of a chemistry, theoretical physics kind of nerd."

"Yeah," Sam added, "and I don't think the men of letters has IT support anymore."

Dean nodded.

"I think I know someone who could help us." he said, standing.

"Charlie?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded.

"Charlie. Come on, I'll call her." He said, taking out his phone as he and Sam left the room.

Kevin turned to Castiel.

"Who the hell is Charlie?"

The former angel shrugged.

"I have no idea."

…

After Sam left to fetch Charlie, who was luckily still in Topeka, Cas and Dean gathered the masses of bags from their shopping spree and Cas started for the room Dean had designated his the night before.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Dean asked.

"My room?" Castiel answered uncertainly.

"Oh, right. It's just, I thought, after last night maybe you wanted to…" he trailed off, face heating.

"Wanted to what?"

Dean sighed impatiently.

"Wanted stay in my room." He mumbled to his shoes.

"Oh." Castiel exclaimed, "Are you sure?"

"Well, if you don't want to that's fine." Dean shrugged, struggling to sound uncaring.

"I would like that." Castiel said, taking a step towards the hunter.

Dean's head shot up and a smile grew where his frown had been.

"Really?"

Castiel nodded.

"Yes."

He slipped past Dean into the room, their room, and smiled, setting the bags he had been carrying on the bed and starting to unpack as Dean cleared space in his dresser.

As Castiel was going through the bags, pulling out clothes and folding them, something caught his eye.

"What's this?" he asked, pulling out the trench coat he had been eyeing.

Dean turned around and his face flushed when he saw what Cas had found.

"Oh that," he said, rubbing his neck self-consciously, "I ah, saw you looking at it, thought you might like it. We can always take it back if you don't I just thought…"

He trailed off.

Cas looked at the coat.

"I do appreciate the gesture Dean it's just…I not that person anymore." He looked up with sad eyes. "I'm not an angel. I can't zap you anywhere, I can't heal your wounds, can't even heal my own." He rubbed at his sore ribs, which were a constant reminder of his now mortal state, "I'm useless."

Dean's face screwed up in anger.

"What? What the hell are you talking about? Hey," he stormed over to the dejected man, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around to face Dean, "You are not useless you hear? So you don't have your mojo anymore so what? I'm human, Sam's human."

Cas looked up with a cold expression.

"But you two have had an entire lifetime to get accustomed to your humanity. I have not. You said so yourself, 'baby in a trench coat' remember?" he said angrily, brandishing the coat that looked so much like his last one.

Dean sighed.

"Yeah I remember and I was an ass to say that because you're not useless. Yeah you may not have your mojo anymore but you've still got all that knowledge floating around in your noggin, that's gotta be worth something and besides you have no idea how much you've helped me just by being here. You are not your grace or your strength or your healing powers. You are you, and that's all you need to be. That's all I want you to be." He sighed, taking the coat from Castiel, "Look, I'm sorry for buying this all right? I'll take it back tomorrow."

"Wait." Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder as he started to turn, taking back the tan trench coat.

"I want to keep it."

"What? Why?"

Cas looked up at Dean.

"As a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"Sometimes you forget how important you are to other people, how worthy of love you are and in those times I am there to remind you. This is to remind me that you are here for when _I_ forget."

The words were sappy but, spoken in Castiel's candid manner, cut right through the layers of bullshit that Dean had wrapped around his heart and he couldn't help leaning down and kissing the fallen angel. It wasn't a heated kiss, full of want and desire; it was soft, tender, loving.

He pulled back, staring into Castiel's unbelievably blue eyes.

"Cas I-" _I love you._ The words caught in his throat. He knew they were true but he just wasn't ready to say them out loud. The only person he'd ever said them out loud to before had been his mom. He cleared his throat to cover up the pause and said instead, "Thanks." It was lame and a cop out but Castiel smiled up at him anyway.

"You're welcome." He looked down at the overcoat still held in his hand, "Thank you for my coat."

Dean smiled and chuckled.

"You're welcome."


	11. Chapter 11

Hot Damn that one was hard to write! Sorry this is so late! This is the second half of 9x04 so there will be some familiar dialogue and situations.

Enjoy!

…

Dean and Castiel were lounging; waiting for Sam to return with Charlie. Cas was seated at the head of the table on Dean's left, engrossed in a book on fifteenth century alchemy. Dean looked up from the computer, watching him, taking in his eyes as they followed the line of text, the furrow between his eyebrows as he poured all his concentration into the task, his nimble fingers as they moved up to his full, plump lips, a pink tongue darting out to wet them before lowering, sliding the milky page over and then shifting as he resettled in his seat.

He thought about how it felt to kiss those lips and be kissed by them. Waking up that morning to Castiel's sleeping body beside him; his warm, solid presence. How easy it had felt to make breakfast and invade each other's space even with an audience. It had felt so…right.

A jolt of doubt lurched deep within him, a voice, which sounded suspiciously like his father, whispering to him that he _would_ screw it up, that this would_ not _last. After all, how could it? Good things didn't happen to Dean Winchester, he didn't know the first thing about how to be in a healthy fulfilling relationship, of course he was going to wreck this.

Dean swallowed back the fear that was slowly creeping up through his abdomen. He stared at the former angel, looking so domestic and…human slumped in his chair as he read. Dean's heart picked up as he stared at the man, as it always did, fluttering and jumping as he took in his tousled hair and soft lips, lips which were his to kiss freely.

He still couldn't quite believe it.

Dean leaned back in his chair and raised first one leg and then the other, resting them sideways on Castiel's lap and crossing one socked foot over the other. Cas frowned, looking down at his now occupied lap and then up at Dean, tilting his head in a silent question. Dean just smiled and went back to the computer keeping his senses open to the small gesture that sill seemed to contain so much meaning. Cas looked back down at the legs that had taken up residence on his lap and decided that he rather liked them there. Returning to the book, he rested his free hand on Dean's shin, brushing his thumb distractedly over the fabric of his pants as he continued reading.

They stayed like that until the door to the bunker opened and a familiar head of red hair appeared.

"Here it is!" Sam announced as they came down the stairs.

"Hey!" Dean greeted, standing and moving over to give the red headed nerd a hug.

"Wow." she commented after pulling away, "you guys got roommates."

She glanced at the small crowd that had formed at her arrival, interest piqued by Sam and Dean's description of their computer genius friend.

"Yeah." Sam said, stepping around her to make introductions, "Charlie, this is Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord, Kevin this is Charlie Bradbury, computer hacker and LARPer extraordinaire."

"Wow, Prophet of the Lord. Sounds important and awesome." she smiled, shaking his hand.

"Important yes, awesome, not so much." Kevin replied.

"And this is Kevin's mother, Mrs. Tran."

She rolled her eyes.

"Please, Linda's fine." She took Charlie's hand, "It's lovely to meet you dear."

Charlie smiled, "You too."

"And this," Dean spoke up, "is Castiel."

Charlie broke out in a grin of recognition at the name.

"As in the Angel of the Lord Castiel? Trench coat wearing, sarcasm impaired, 'I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition' Castiel?"

Cas frowned.

"Well, I am no longer an angel but that is a surprisingly accurate description of me yes."

If possible, Charlie's grin widened. She glanced at Dean.

"I was right, he is dreamy."

Dean grinned and threw his arm around Cas' shoulders, pulling him in close.

"I know right?"

Charlie's eyes widened, flicking between the two.

"Wait, hold up. Are you two…" she trailed off, punctuating the unspoken words with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

Castiel smiled, looking up at Dean with open admiration in his eyes while Dean's face warmed and reddened from the scrutiny. He cleared his throat.

"So anyway, thanks for coming."

Charlie looked like she wanted to ignore the question but she relented and let Dean change the topic. The look in her eye however clearly said this wasn't over.

…

"So…Dean." Charlie said as she sat rewiring the antique computer.

After an engaging conversation about the makeup of the vintage console, Kevin had gone off to continue his translation of the angel tablet and Sam was in the kitchen with Cas teaching him how to make sandwiches. Dean was sitting on the floor against one of the many consoles that lined the walls of the room keeping the hacker company as she geeked out over the computer.

"What?"

She glanced over at him with a suggestive eyebrow raised.

"Cas! Details!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cas and I are together." He said, still not quite able to believe it himself despite having said it out loud.

Charlie let out a little huff of impatience, "And?"

Dean shrugged, "And what?"

Charlie scoffed and muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Men."

She turned and sat cross-legged facing Dean.

"I read every single one of thoseSsupernatural books Dean Winchester and from what I gathered, you are a straight-as-they-come, dyed in the wool, womanizing, heterosexual man. So what? Is this and 'experiment'? A 'phase'? A 'wing kink'? Or have you always been a friend of Dorothy?"

Dean sighed and dropped his head back against the consol.

"Let's just say, me and Cas aren't a 'phase'." He hedged.

Charlie's eyes widened then narrowed.

"So what about the whole 'I like frisky women' thing? Was that real? Or were you just so far inside the closet you were fighting the white witch with Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy?"

Dean looked at her blankly.

"Narnia?" she rolled her eyes, "I am so wasted here."

"I like women." Dean stated.

"But also hot angel boys with endless blue eyes the colour of the Indian Ocean." She trailed off, a wistful look on her face before frowning and shaking her head.

Dean shot her a wry smile.

"Yes."

"So you're bi?"

Dean shrugged.

"I suppose so."

"Or are you pan? Because 'multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent'? Sounds pretty pansexual to me."

Dean's face screwed up in confusion.

"What are you-?"

"Hey, how's it going in here?" Sam asked, entering the room with Castiel right behind him bearing a tray piled with sandwiches.

Sam moved over to see what Charlie was doing and the two struck up a conversation as Castiel moved over to Dean, sitting down beside him and holding out the food with a proud smile on his face.

"I made them myself." He pronounced.

Dean looked between the food and Cas a smile growing on his face.

"Did you just bring me a plate of sandwiches that you made for me?" Dean asked with slowly growing love and adoration in his eyes.

Cas looked down at the food and then back up at Dean.

"Yes." He said, confused as to why Dean was stating the obvious.

"You are the best boyfriend ever." He smiled, leaning over and planting a kiss on Cas' surprised face.

An excited high-pitched squeal sounded from across the room and Dean pulled back to stare at Charlie who had her hand over her mouth to hide a beaming smile.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I'm just shipping you two so hard right now."

…

"Wow! That Joffrey's a dick!"

As a way to kill time while waiting for Charlie's program to decrypt the files, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Kevin had all piled into Sam's room to marathon the first few episodes of Game of Thrones. Dean, Cas, and Charlie ended up on the bad, Castiel sandwiched in between the hunter and the nerd but soon found himself pulled into Dean's side, head resting on his shoulder and snuggled in close to his side with Charlie throwing them the same look she got every time she saw an adorable cat video. Cas didn't seem to notice and Dean pretended not to see.

"Oh! You have no idea. Wait until he-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam interrupted, holding up a hand, "Spoilers. I haven't read all the books yet."

"You're gonna read the books?" Dean asked derisively.

"Yes, Dean. I like to read books. You know, the one without the pictures in them?"

There was an awkward silence which, thankfully, Charlie broke.

"Man!" Charlie interrupted, "This bed is about as comfortable as a brick."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed, "Dean's bed is much comfier. It's memory foam."

There was a pause during which Sam and Kevin looked like they were desperately trying not to picture how exactly Cas came to know this, while Charlie looked like her smile might snap if it got any wider.

"So Charlie, how do you know so much about, like Cas and everything?" Kevin asked having picked up on her throwaway comments to the two hunter brothers.

"Well you know, I read the books."

Kevin frowned.

"Which books?"

"The Supernatural books." She said as though that explained everything.

Kevin looked at her blankly.

"Like, the books in the library here?"

"No, the books that Carver Edland wrote about these two." She gestured to the two hunter brothers.

"Someone wrote books about you guys?!"

"They were the work of the prophet who came before you." Castiel explained, "He received visions and was compelled to write them down as narratives. They are referred to as the Winchester Gospels."

"What?!" Charlie exclaimed, spinning around to face the former angel, "Carver Edland is a prophet?"

"Actually his name was Chuck Shurly." Castiel corrected.

"The prophet Chuck?" Charlie asked disbelievingly.

"So all this guy had to do was write down his dreams?" Kevin asked, "Man why couldn't I have been that kind of prophet."

"Actually the visions were pretty painful," Sam explained, attempting to alleviate the current prophet's feelings, "Chuck said they felt like migraines. Also they seemed to strike at unknown intervals, at least you can choose when to read the tablets and when not to."

Kevin nodded.

"Yeah that does sound pretty bad."

"So what happened to Chuck?" Charlie asked.

Dean and Sam looked at Castiel.

"I am unsure. I was 'out of the loop' as you say for quite a while. However, there can only be one prophet at a time which would suggest that Chuck is no longer with us."

The room was silent as they ruminated on the unknown fate of Chuck before Charlie once again broke the uncomfortable mood.

"So Sam, any plans on moving in any time soon…?"

The happy, relaxed (albeit slightly argumentative) atmosphere of the bunker broke when it was revealed that Dorothy and a very pissed off mute Wicked Witch had been released from some binding spell and were currently running amuck.

…

Crowley moved silently through the halls of the underground bunker back to his room, back to the silence and isolation.

He had been avoiding the rest of the inhabitants of the bunker, partly because he knew they wanted him to, but partly also because every time he looked at Sam or Dean or Castiel or Linda Tran, he remembered the countless times he had used, abused, and/or betrayed them. And Kevin. Kevin's scarred, jaded eyes that had once been so wide and innocent. He was responsible for those eyes. He could remember snapping his girlfriend's neck for no other reason than because it caused the prophet pain. He had cut his finger off, kidnapped and tortured his mother, pursued him relentlessly, held him captive…

Crowley stopped, closing his eyes and pushing the memories away. He knew he could not dwell on them; could not get lost in them because he knew if he ever did, he would not get out. The collective memories of countless centuries of pain and torture in hell, coupled with all the deeds he had done first as a crossroads demon and then as King of Hell, whispered to him during his waking hours and came out to play when he slept, disrupting his slumber with nightmares, and torturing his existence. He was crumbing under the weight of all he had to make up for and a part of him knew that no matter how hard he tried he would never truly gain redemption for all that he had done.

But he had to try.

He continued on, turned a corner, and came face to face with the one and only Wicked Witch of the West.

She turned her head as she caught sight of him and opened her mouth.

Crowley ran.

Through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground bunker he ran. Around one of the corners he collided with Linda Tran. Not having time for an explanation, he grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her along with him.

"What?!" She yelled as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, "Get your hands off me! What are you doing?!"

"Run!" He yelled by way of explanation.

He did the same to Kevin whom he found a few hallways later. The little blighter put up more of a fight than his mother but eventually Crowley got them into the safety of the dungeon.

They stood in the dark and silence, panting.

"What the hell is going on?!" Kevin yelled.

Crowley shushed him and his mother slapped him on the arm.

"Don't swear." She turned to Crowley. "Tell me what is going on!" she demanded, "Why are we in here?"

"There is a wicked witch running rampant through the bunker." He explained.

"A what?"

"A wicked witch." He enounced, "_The_ Wicked Witch of the 'I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too' variety."

"Like the Wizard of Oz?" Kevin asked, clearly not believing a word Crowley said.

Before he could answer, a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Hello lovely." Crowley said in his low gravelly voice.

She continued forwards, picking up the pace before her foot touched the outer ring of the inlayed devil's trap and she leapt back as though burned.

"Sorry," He said with false apology, "this box is warded against everything, even wicked witches. Big fan, love your work."

She opened her mouth but no words came out, just rasping sounds.

"What's the matter darling? Cowardly lion got your tongue?"

She hissed in anger, her eyes glowing green and, without thinking, Crowley stepped in front of the mother and son, holding his arms out and shielding them with his body. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; despite the fact that he knew they were safe while in the circle, Crowley couldn't help but be painfully reminded of his own reinstated mortality.

"Right." He said with forced calm and apathy, "Enough chit-chat." He spun around and grabbed the notebook and pen that the prophet still had clutched in his hand, ripping a blank page out and turned back, "You must be here for a reason. Write it down, so daddy can help."

He wrapped the pen in the paper and threw it to the witch who caught it deftly, scrawled something on it, and threw it back.

Crowley looked at the '_key'_ scratched inexpertly on the crumpled paper.

"Key." He commented, "Keys are kept in the kitchen love."

The witch stared at him for a beat, her head tilted as she considered the veracity of his word before presumably deciding he was telling the truth and disintegrating into a tornado of green and grey and disappeared into the air vents.

Crowley waited for a beat before turning to the Trans.

"Stay here. Do not move out of the circle understand?"

They nodded mutely.

"Good." He said before moving out and searching for the hunters to inform them of the witch's quest.

…

Sam and Dean's guns came up instinctively when Crowley appeared in the doorway to the ransacked kitchen. Charlie and Dorothy had just returned from the armory with four poppy bullets and they were just distributing them when the former demon appeared in the entrance, out of breath and hands raised in supplication.

"Crowley!" Dean shouted, annoyed. He did not need him thrown into the mix.

"Crowley?" Charlie perked up at the familiar name, "As in the demon? The King of Hell?"

"He's a demon?" Dorothy asked, reaching for her flash of holy water.

"Former demon, former King of Hell!" Crowley protested.

"Not possible." The huntress countered, splashing a liberal amount of the blessed water on him.

"It's true." Dean confirmed when nothing happened.

"Now isn't the time!" Crowley interrupted, wiping the excess water from his face, "You have a wicked witch running around your precious bunker looking for a key!"

"Key? What key?" Sam asked.

"The key to Oz." Dorothy said, explaining what it did and showing them a drawing of it from her journal.

Dean recognized it from the inventory that was currently sitting somewhere in his room.

"How did you know?" Castiel spoke up staring inquisitively at the former demon. The rest of the group turned at the question and Crowley noted Dean's grip tightening around his gun as he brought it into a low ready position.

"She told me." Crowley answered.

"How are you not dead?" Dorothy asked.

"I was in your dungeon. Place can keep anyone out including our new guest."

"Wait you have a dungeon in this place?" Charlie asked before shaking her head, "Of course you do."

Dean considered the answer before finally nodding and relaxing his stance.

"Alright. Sam, you go with Dorothy. Find the Tran's and get them to the dungeon-"

"Already there." Crowley interrupted, "I ran into them on the way. They're safe."

Dean's expression seemed to indicate that a non-evil Crowley was seriously messing with his fundamental view of the world.

"Alright. You go back there and don't come out until we come and get you, Sam and Dorothy, you go buy us some time. Cas and Charlie, go to the dungeon with Crowley and wait there."

"What?!" "Dean!" Cas and Charlie protested simultaneously.

"No arguments you two, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I am not hiding!" the ginger haired nerd argued.

"And I don't want _you_ to get hurt. I'm staying with you." Castiel countered.

"Cas-"

"I'm staying. With. You." He said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Dean contemplated arguing further but they couldn't afford to waste time.

"Argh! Fine." He said in a voice that he knew sounded childish and petulant. He turned his gaze on Charlie.

"A wicked witch? A key? A _quest_?" she beamed and clapped him on the shoulder, "Let's do this!"

Dean glowered but sighed and turned to Crowley, glaring at hm. The man held up his hands in supplication.

"No argument from me. I'd rather not die."

…

Dean, Cas and Charlie were in Dean's room rooting around through the paraphernalia he'd managed to accumulate, looking for the key.

"Ha!" Dean exclaimed when he finally managed to locate it. "Yahzee."

Cas turned and spotted the witch standing behind Dean with her hands outstretched.

"Dean!"

The hunter turned and, quick as a flash, the hag reached forward and snatched the key from Dean's grasp.

Cas rushed forwards to push Dean out of the way when he found himself picked up by some invisible force and thrown bodily into the concrete wall of the bunker. The witch turned, raising hand swathed in sickly green light but Dean already had his gun up and aimed, getting a shot off and clipping her shoulder before, with an almighty screech, she disintegrated once more and vanished back the way she had come.

Dean turned and rushed to the fallen angel lying crumpled and still in the corner of his room.

"Cas? Cas!"

He groaned as he stirred, "That was unpleasant," he murmured and Dean let out a sigh of relief as Sam came barreling into the room, gun at the ready.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He answered, helping Castiel sit up. The angel groaned as his already abused body protested at the movement. Dean's hands came up to cup Cas' face, "Hey, look at me."

Cas blinked open his eyes and obediently stared up into Dean's concerned ones. Dean glanced from one to another, checking for signs of a concussion. Cas groaned again and brought his hand up to where his skull had smacked against the wall. Dean swatted his hand away and moved to check it himself.

"You're gonna be okay. You've got a pretty good goose-egg but you should be fine." His body sagged at the words and he pulled the other man into a relieved embrace burying his face in the dark tousled hair.

"I told you to stay in the dungeon."

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean in a comforting hug.

"If I had you'd be dead now."

Dean scoffed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before helping him stand and turning to his brother.

"The witch, I clipped her with a poppy bullet but she has the key." He said, guilt and shame colouring his voice, "I think she's gone."

"No," Dorothy said, appearing in the doorway, "she's wounded, we may still have some time, she could still be in the air vents."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Charlie asked, cocking her gun.

Cas moved to stand, wincing as he did. Dean helped him up, laying a steadying hand on his back as he swayed.

"Cas, you gotta get to the dungeon. You're hurt, you'll just slow us down."

Cas looked up into Dean's eyes, he saw fear and concern and love radiating from them and his head swam as another dizzy spell overtook him.

He nodded.

"Alright Dean, so long as you promise to be safe too."

Dean smirked.

"Of course I'll be safe." He leaned down and laid a soft kiss on his lips before turning to the others.

Dorothy was looking at them with an expression of surprise mixed with something else…longing? There wasn't time to dwell on it.

"Sam, you take the girls and go after the witch. I'll take Cas to the dungeon and meet up with you.

…

In the end it was Charlie who vanquished the Wicked Witch of the West, which she proudly exclaimed with a sassy, "Ding dong bitches."

Kevin, Cas, Linda, and Crowley were retrieved from the dungeon. Linda giving the former demon a small nod in appreciation of his efforts to keep them protected, an action which stunned Crowley seeing as how he could never have believed the prophet's mother would or could forgive him for what he had done to her. Kevin however, continued to ignore him as per usual and eventually, the now human King of Hell skulked back to his corner of the bunker before anyone else had a chance to thank him for his role in the day's events. It had been enough that Linda had acknowledged him, it gave him hope that maybe he could make a small dent in the mountain of 'Things He Had to Make Up For'.

Once it was all over with, Dean, Cas, Dorothy, and Charlie, found themselves in the straightened up kitchen enjoying Dean's homemade burgers and listening to Dorothy regale them with tales of her adventures in Oz, the real stories. Kevin and his mother had retired to their rooms having had enough excitement for one day, and Sam had crashed after the adrenalin rush that had sustained him though the entire ordeal died down and was passed out in his room.

"…so then we ended up burning the forest down so that we wouldn't be killed by the apple grenades the trees were launching at us." Dorothy finished her story to silence while Dean nodded appreciatively at the top-notch hunting, Castiel frowned in interest and confusion, not having any context for the story, and Charlie just looked devastated as yet another piece of her childhood was overwritten.

Once they finished, Dean got up to do the dishes and Castiel joined him. They stood close, invading each other's space and occasionally sharing an intimate moment or touch as they cleaned the plates. 

Charlie noticed the looks Dorothy kept throwing them, assuming the worst as the huntress turned and regarded the redhead.

"They are very…open about their relationship." She said hesitantly and Charlie had an indignant and self-righteous rant poised on the tip of her tongue when the other woman continued, "Is that sort of thing accepted now?"

And suddenly Charlie understood and she knew that the look she had seen in hunteress' eyes had not been discomfort or scorn, it had been yearning.

"Yeah." She nodded taking Dorothy's hand, "I mean, we still have a ways to go. There's still a lot of objection and homophobia but it's not taboo anymore. Gay people can even get married, in some states."

Dorothy gaped at the information and her gaze drifted as she struggled to take it all in.

"Wow." She breathed, "And here I was still trying to get used to the fact that you're not a secretary."

She smiled and Charlie smiled back.

"In my time it was hard enough just getting taken seriously as a woman, let alone a…"

"Lesbian?" Charlie supplied and Dorothy's cheeks reddened before her face split into a grin.

"It's very…freeing to be able to speak so openly about it."

Charlie nodded.

"I understand. Even growing up in this day and age it's a difficult thing to come to terms with."

Dorothy cocked her head.

"Are you…?"

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah."

Dorothy smiled.

"You know? I think I'm going to like the twenty-first century."

…

They stood in the garage, Charlie humming with excitement at the prospect of going on a journey to Oz with Dorothy.

"Take care of yourself boys." She said, holding back tears that were part sorrow at the idea of leaving and part unbridled excitement at the quest that lay before her, "Dean," she added, pointing and accusatory finger at the hunter, "don't screw this up." She ordered, gesturing to him and Cas, "And Castiel, don't let Dean screw this up."

She gathered them both in a tight hug before stepping back.

"I expect to be maid of honor at your wedding when I get back."

Ignoring the puzzled frown from Castiel and the shocked look from Dean, Charlie turned to give Sam one last hug before turning and passing through the doorway into Oz, a blinding smile on her face, off on her next big adventure.


	12. Chapter 12

So I skipped the dog episode (I actually quite liked it, one of my family members was in it) but it didn't really serve this story.

Takes place during 9x06.

Trigger!Warning: Attempted Suicide, please read with caution.

…

It had been weeks, weeks since anything of interest had happened and Dean was beginning to climb walls. Sam was getting better but was still weak, and Kevin, despite having his mother around, was feeling the stress of trying to decipher the angel tablet in order to find some way of getting the angels back to Heaven. Crowley was his ever-evasive self, still keeping to his room, although Cas had begun to visit him every now and again.

Cas.

Things had been going well between them. His physical injuries were healing well and the dark purple bruises that had marred his ribcage had now faded to a sickly yellow. Dean had begun to give the fallen angel weapons training and self-defence lessons so that the now-human Cas could defend himself and Dean could sleep easy.

He still had not had any nightmares, he and Cas were getting along and falling into a comfortable rhythm, and nothing had tried to kill them recently.

And Dean was sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he went out and scoured newspapers and the Internet and finally, finally came up with a half-decent lead.

"Hey!" he announced, bounding into the library and pulling on his jacket as he went, "I caught a possible case. Rexford, Idaho. Bunch of people have gone missing from their homes and a strange substance has been reported at the scene."

Sam looked up with a frown.

"That's not much Dean, are you sure it's worth the drive?"

Dean shrugged.

"You never know, might be worth a look-see." He clapped Castiel on the back, "You comin'?"

Cas looked up from the book he had been reading with an uncertain look on his face.

"I don't know, Dean."

Dean looked taken aback.

"What? Come on Cas, you're not gonna make me do this alone are you?"

"Why doesn't Sam go with you?" he suggested, gesturing to Dean's brother across the table who, while he no longer looked like a strong wind might knock him over, was still not quite up to par in the health department.

"Because Sam's in no state to go hunting." he explained, sending an apologetic glance Sam's way. He pulled up a chair and sat down facing the former angel who was studiously avoiding Dean's gaze. "But you already knew that." He sighed, "What's going on Cas?"

Sensing an imminent private conversation, both Kevin and Sam vacated the library, leaving the hunter and his angel alone.

"I just…I'm not going to be much use to you Dean." Castiel explained.

"What are you talking about? Of course you are."

"Dean-"

"Come on." Dean interrupted.

"What happened to me staying safe in the dungeon?" Cas asked, turning his gaze on Dean.

"What happened to you not _wanting_ to stay safe in the dungeon?"

Cas sighed and looked back down at the table, fingering the pages of his book.

"Come on." Dean urged, "You don't have to come on the hunt, just come with me. Keep me company. After all," he continued, reaching over to trace the line of Castiel's clavicle where it peeked out of his collared shirt "it's a long drive to Idaho and if this does turn out to be something, I may have to stay over night." He leaned forward to whisper in Castiel's ear, "I'd hate to have to sleep all alone in some motel room all by myself."

Castiel shivered and glanced over at him, chewing his bottom lip as he deliberated.

"Okay." He finally conceded, and Dean smiled and pecked him on the lips in response, clapping him on the back as he stood.

"Sammy!" he yelled as he dragged Cas to their room to pack him an overnight bag, "We'll be back in a few days!"

…

"That's your 'Big News'?" Sam asked, staring at the page of indecipherable symbols, "That you translated the tablet into…doodles?"

Dean and Cas had been gone for a few hours when Kevin had come bounding into his room to tell him the 'Big News'.

"It's cuneiform." Kevin explained.

Sam shot him a look that clearly said that that was not an explanation.

"Hey!" Linda Tran yelled, smacking Sam on the arm, "Don't talk to my son like that! Do you know how hard he's been working to translate your stupid tablet?"

Sam pouted and rubbed his arm. For such a tiny person she could really pack a punch.

"Sorry." he apologized.

"It's alright." Kevin said, "I hit a wall translating the tablet into English. But I found an ancient codex linking the angel script into proto-Elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into Elamite, which is…"

"Doodles?" Sam supplied, stepping away from Kevin's mom as she sent a glare his way.

"It's extinct."

"Well, can you read it?"

Kevin shook his head.

"No one can. Scholars have tried for centuries."

"So it's a dead end?"

"Not quite. Now, most proto-Elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. 'Falling angels'."

"Okay, so the footnotes refer to Metatron's spell?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, well maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell." He said, moving to the shelf and pulling out several volumes of 'Zimmerman's Encyclopaedia of Extinct Languages' and the three of them sat down, to start attempting to decipher Kevin's 'doodles'.

…

Dean pulled his baby into the pump station at the first Gas n' Sip he saw, stepping out as Cas did and moving over to the fuel door.

"I don't understand, why is it only the driver who gets to pick the music?" Castiel asked as he moved around the car to stand by Dean.

"Because those are the rules Cas." Dean said by way of explanation.

Cas frowned.

"Is this another 'Rules according to Dean Winchester'?" He asked, bringing his fingers up in air-quotes to punctuate his words.

Dean looked up at the now-human angel.

"What?" he asked.

"It is something Sam explained to me. He said that there are widely accepted rules of society and then there are 'Rules-'"

"All right, all right." Dean said, reaching out to grab Castiel's hands as they came up again, "I get it."

"Well?" Cas asked.

"Well what?"

"Are they?"

"Are they what?"

"The 'Rules according to-'."

"Yes! Yes they are!" Dean yelled, interrupting the other man.

"Oh, okay." Castiel nodded, lowering his hands and watching in fascination as Dean filled the car with gas, before following him into the store and over to the coffee urns.

Castiel watched as Dean poured cream into his coffee and then picked it up, stirring it with a wooden swizzle stick as he blew on the hot beverage, and mimicked his every move. Dean lifted the stick out of his coffee and drew it across his tongue to divest it of any excess liquid in a move that entranced Castiel and sent strange shoots of heat through his body. Then Dean turned to the trashcan and aimed, tossing it and watching it sail through the air before it landed silently in the receptacle.

"Yeah." Dean cheered, "High five!"

He turned to Cas and held up his hand, palm forward and paused. Cas frowned in confusion as he looked from Dean's hand to his face, sensing that he was meant to be doing something but unsure what that something was.

"Hit my hand, Cas." Dean said.

"But I don't want to hit you, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly.

"Lightly, Cas."

Cas frowned again.

"Come on, you have to – it's the rules."

"Is this-"

"This isn't the 'rules according to Dean'." Dean said quickly before the air quotes could make a reappearance, "This is proper society rules."

Cas looked sceptical but raised his hand dutifully and tapped it against Dean's. Dean smiled and lowered his hand and Cas felt proud of himself for doing it properly and pleasing Dean.

He looked down at the stick that was still in his cup and lifted it, drawing it slowly across his tongue as Dean had, before turning and tossing it at the garbage can, feeling an unexpected thrill of accomplishment when it sailed in.

"Awesome." Dean said.

Cas smiled and turned, raising his hand.

Dean chuckled and slapped it.

"Here," he said, fishing some bills out of his wallet, "go pay, I'm gonna check in with Sam."

Castiel took the money to the counter where a harried-looking blonde woman seemed to be having some sort of verbal altercation over the phone.

"I'm sorry, Gary, but my regular sitter couldn't make it and I don't have a replacement. Can't we just reschedule? I'm free-" She stopped talking and pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it before scoffing and pressing the end button angrily before setting it down on the counter with a frustrated "Men!"

She turned and caught sight of Castiel standing awkwardly at the register.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she apologized, moving over and ringing everything up, "My date cancelled on me because I couldn't get a sitter," she sighed, "probably not worth the makeup anyway."

She smiled, but her eyes remained sad.

"I'm sorry." Castiel offered by way of comfort.

The woman, Nora as her nametag read, smiled and handed him his change.

"Thank you."

Castiel nodded and then raised his hand.

"High five."

Nora stared for a second before raising her hand slowly and slapping his.

He smiled at her before departing the convenience store. She watched him go with a bemused look on her face.

"See, why can't I meet a nice guy like that?" she asked herself. She watched as he walked to a shiny black car where another man had just finished on the phone. They shared a quick kiss before getting in and pulling out onto the road. Nora sighed wistfully, "That's why."

…

"So Kevin translated the tablet into cuneiform?" Cas asked as Dean pulled out of the gas station, having been updated on the goings on at the bunker.

"Yeah, proto-marmite or something."

"Elamite?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Cas nodded.

"You know it?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, I am not there to translate it."

Dean nodded.

"Crowley, however is; he could help decipher the text."

Dean looked uncertain.

"I don't know how well Kevin's going to react to that idea."

"Dean, we need to get the angels back to heaven."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

…

"Dean-"

"Look Sam, I know it ain't ideal, but I don't know how long this is gonna take, and he's your best shot since you're getting nowhere with those big ass encyclopaedias and Professor Morrison is unreachable. Besides, he helped with the witch."

Sam sighed. They'd gotten nowhere translating the tablet themselves and Sam knew their best bet was Crowley.

"Yeah, I guess it's worth a shot. How's it going over there?"

"Four victims suddenly exploded. I tried EMF. I've looked for hex bags, sulphur; nada."

"Spontaneous combustion? Maybe the Thule?"

"No, no, no. I already ruled them out. The bodies were vaporized. They weren't burned."

"Alright, well, good luck."

"Yeah."

Dean pocketed his phone and opened the door to the motel room they'd rented; setting the takeout he'd picked up on the table. He glanced over at Cas, who switched off the TV and stood from the bed.

"So?" he asked, moving to the table and inspecting the food, "Is this your kind of thing?"

"Four people exploded, and I mean vaporized." He said moving to the bathroom, not having been able to bathe between arriving at the motel from their fourteen-hour car ride and showing up at the scene.

"I'm gonna take a shower, feel free to eat, I'll be out in a sec."

Once Dean was clean and he and Cas were seated around the table, he bit into his burger asking, "How was your day?"

"I watched something called 'Keeping up with the Kardashians'." He frowned, "Why are we expected to keep up with them? They do not seem to serve any purpose to society."

Castiel seemed to consider this dilemma intently as he idly chewed his burger. Dean considered trying to explain it to him but found he couldn't come up with any plausible reason.

His phone rang and Dean set his food down to answer it.

"This is Agent Lee Ermey…I'll be right there." He hung up and looked over at Cas, "There was another kill, over at the high school. You coming?"

Castiel finished chewing his food and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Dean, without my powers, I'm no use to you." he said softly, his eyes fixed on the table as he traced the patterns in the linoleum.

Dean sighed and rested his hand over Cas', ceasing his movements.

"So? I've never had powers."

"You're a hunter."

"And you're a hunter-in-training. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes piercing, "You said I sucked."

Dean sighed and sat back.

"I didn't say that," he countered, "I said there was, you know, 'room for improvement'."

Castiel shot him a withering glance over the table.

"Come on." he said, on the verge of begging.

Castiel sighed.

"Okay." He conceded.

Dean grinned.

…

"No!"

Sam sighed.

"He's our only shot Kevin."

"No!"

To say that Kevin was resistant to the idea of bringing Crowley in to help with the translation was putting it lightly. Currently he was sitting in his usual chair in the library, arms crossed as he stubbornly refused to budge on the point.

"Kevin." Mrs. Tran said softly.

"What?" Kevin barked, reddening under his mother's stern look, "…Sorry, Mom."

Linda shook her head and sat down.

"It's all right, Kevin." She said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "But I think Sam is right."

"But-"

"You don't have to like him, or forgive him. Just accept his help."

Kevin seemed to deflate under her rational words.

"All right." he said softly.

…

When he had finished interviewing the moody teenaged girl, he looked around for Cas who was nowhere in sight. When he found him hunched over the Impala, Dean's stomach lurched and he rushed over, excusing himself hastily to the sheriff.

"Cas? What's wrong?" he asked, concern colouring his tones as he laid his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I've seen this before." He said softly, not raising his eyes from where they were fixed on the car's hood.

"What? Where?"

"In heaven." He finally looked up at Dean as he turned to face him.

"What, are you saying an angel did this?" he asked, gesturing towards the bus.

"It's no ordinary angel. Dean, this is bad. This is very bad."

Cas looked shaken, his brow furrowed and his eyes troubled. Dean led him to the door, encouraging him into the passenger seat before rounding the hood and plunking himself down behind the wheel. They sat in silence while Dean waited for Castiel to speak.

Once Castiel was finished explaining that they were dealing with a Rit Zien and what exactly that was and what he was, in all likelihood, doing here, Dean sat back in the leather seat, trying to digest the information.

"So…everyone's fair game?"

Castiel nodded.

"All right, well, we gotta stop him."

Cas shook his head.

"You have to stop him."

Dean looked over at Cas who broke eye contact and looked away. Dean frowned.

"You're scared." he said, finally understanding why Castiel hadn't wanted to come on the hunt in the first place.

Cas sighed.

"It's different now, Dean, everything's different."

"What about when were fighting the witch?" Dean asked, "You didn't seem scared then."

Cas looked down and fidgeted.

"Sometimes I forget…that I'm not an angel anymore, and all I want to do is protect you, like I used to." he looked over at Dean, pain shining through his blue eyes. "But I'm not, Dean…I'm human." he said softly.

Dean considered his words. To go from an all-powerful heavenly being full of grace and righteousness to just another grunt tethered to the earth; to fall from grace the way Castiel had, perhaps he was right. Perhaps he wasn't ready for this.

Dean nodded. "You're probably right. All right, I'll drop you off at the motel and then I'll track down this Kevorkian wannabe and I'll put him down."

"Okay." Cas agreed, shame at his own fear and weakness creeping through him.

...

Sam stood for a moment outside Crowley's door before knocking and waiting for permission to enter.

Crowley looked dishevelled and tired, bags darkening his eyes and his clothes hanging off his noticeably thinner frame. His hair was lank and his cheeks were covered in at least a week's worth of growth. All in all a startling change, since Sam had been avoiding the former demon and so hadn't seen him in a few weeks.

"Moose." he said softly, and without his usual grit, "What brings you to my neck of the art deco bunker?"

"Kevin's translated part of the tablet into a dead language. We were hoping you could help us read it."

Crowley looked taken aback.

"You want my help?" he asked suspiciously.

"Uh, yeah." Sam said, not at all comfortable with the situation. "Can you read Elamite?"

Crowley shrugged.

"Well, it's by no means my favourite of the ancient tongues, but yes. Yes I can."

…

The sheriff called with an update on the case once Dean was back on the road after dropping Cas off. The first victim's husband's DNA had not been present in the sample sent to the lab and he and Dean were currently pouring through the guy's case file down at the station.

"He was already a bit screwy, but then he found religion. She was a hard-line atheist, no peach herself. When he got himself obsessed with this buddy Boyle wackjob, an already bad marriage got worse. Kept telling her to 'let God in'."

"Buddy who?" Dean asked.

In answer, the sheriff brought him over to one of the computers and hit play on an already loaded video file. As it turned out he was the 'Reverend Buddy Boyle', a charismatic evangelical preacher with his own 'Going for Glory hour'.

"When the angels come a knocking, you just let 'em on in." he preached.

Dean's stomach churned.

"How many people is this reaching?" he asked.

The sheriff pulled up the map from the Going for Glory website and Dean's fears rose with every little red place marker that popped up all over the world.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered angrily as he glanced down at the file. A picture caught his eye and he picked it up, his stomach giving another lurch as he stared at the photograph of the happy couple standing in front of the car.

"Is that his truck?" he asked, already knowing and fearing the answer.

"Yup." the sheriff confirmed.

"Cas." Dean breathed as he threw down the file and tore out of the station seeing clearly in his head the same truck parked right beside his baby in the parking lot of the motel where he'd left Cas. Alone.

...

A knock sounded at the motel door. Thinking it might be Dean or perhaps the management, Castiel moved over and opened it, revealing a face he recognized from battles past: The Rit Zien, Ephram.

"Hello Castiel." he said in his calm, soothing manner, a trademark of the medics; calm in the face of all suffering.

"Ephram." he greeted, not moving to allow the angel entrance.

"You remember my name." The Rit Zien looked awed. "I was just a nobody when we met, but you, you were a legend." He glanced around at the motel and parking lot. "You've been here before." he looked back at Castiel who was still blocking the doorway, "This is my first time and it's…intense."

"You know," Castiel explained, "there's a lot you don't understand about humanity at first. If you would just stop-"

"Stop?" Ephram interrupted, his brow creasing as he failed to comprehend Castiel's plea. "I won't stop until I wash clean the planet of all suffering."

Castiel sighed, knowing it was futile to try to reason with the angel.

"What are you doing here Ephram?" Cas asked.

Ephram cocked his head and frowned as though he was surprised Castiel didn't already know.

"I am here for you, Castiel."

Cas felt his heart rate speed up as Ephram's purpose came to light. He weighed his options as he stood blocking the entrance to the room. He did not have the power to keep Ephram out, even without his wings, the Rit Zien had the strength to knock the door down and enter as he pleased. So instead, he stepped back, allowing the angel inside while he made his way surreptitiously over to his jacket where the switchblade Dean had given him with an imperative to _keep this on you at all times_ sat.

Ephram began to speak and Castiel encouraged him, trying to buy what little time he could as he sliced his palm open and began to draw the angel banishing sigil. Unfortunately, Ephram caught on before he could finish and Castiel found himself kneeling in front of the angel, his wrist pulled back and back and back before the angel twisted it sharply and Castiel gasped as pain exploded in the appendage.

…

Kevin was less than pleased about having to be in the same room as the former king but nevertheless allowed him access to his notes.

"'Obtain the ingredients'," he read, "'heart, bow, Grace.' Blah, blah, blah. 'Mix until the smoke shall rise from the ashes casting the angels from heaven.' Blah, blah, - Oh." He lowered the page and glanced up at the other occupants of the room. "It's irreversible."

"What?" Sam asked.

"The spell can't be undone. The new world order, we're stuck with it."

There was silence and then Kevin spoke.

"You're lying." he said, staring at the ex-demon with eyes full of hatred.

"I'm not." Crowley said truthfully.

"You're lying!" Kevin yelled, standing and slamming his hands down on the table.

"Kevin!" Linda shouted, grabbing her son and attempting to calm him down.

"Get out of here! We can't trust you! Just get out!" The prophet continued to yell as Crowley cut a hasty exit back to his room.

Crowley leaned against the door once he had closed it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood. He closed his eyes. He felt a tear escape from the corner and wiped it away, staring at it with bewilderment. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, except, of course, the other day when he got a bit weepy watching Breakfast at Tiffany's. He looked around the room that had become his haven since his newly restored humanity had rendered him a target for every demon that hadn't made it back to hell before the gates shut for good. And he thought about his insurmountable uphill battle to redeem himself to those he had hurt, tortured, killed.

Who was he kidding? There was no way he could ever make up for all that he had done. All the souls he had bought, all the people he had corrupted. He thought about Kevin's anger. The kid had a right to be angry, furious. He thought about the Winchesters. Sure they let him stay, but only after he had provided them with his vast accumulated wealth and knowledge. He thought about the friends of theirs he'd killed just to get at them; the sheriff he'd nearly succeeded in killing and the pretty brunette he had succeeded at. And he thought about Castiel who knew a thing or two about redemption and who had begun to visit him out of what pity? Genuine care? What did it matter? He was never going to succeed.

Why was he even bothering?

…

Ephram let go and Castiel instinctively pulled the injured limb in towards his chest before he pulled it out again slowly to inspect the damage.

"I want to live." Castiel ground out in between the lances of pain that were shooting outwards from his wrist.

"As what, Castiel?" Ephram asked as he towered above the kneeling mortal, "As an angel? Or a man?"

The door to the motel room burst open and Dean came barging in, angel blade at the ready but Ephram sent him careening into the wall with an idle gesture where he crumpled and lay still.

"Dean!" Cas yelled, his physical pain diminished by the sight of his partner lying, unmoving, in the corner.

"You say you want to live." Ephram continued, ignoring Dean, "But you can't see what I see. By choosing a human life, you've already given up. You. Chose. Death."

Ephram raised his hand, sickly pink light radiating from it as he extended it towards Castiel's forehead.

From the corner of his eyes, Cas saw movement, a glint of silver, and Dean slid the angel blade across the linoleum. Quick as a flash Cas caught it in his good hand and then he was driving it into Ephram's belly. The Rit Zien screamed, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth as he died.

"Cas? Hey, you okay?" Dean asked as he scrambled across the room, over the angel's body to where Castiel knelt, clutching his injury.

"Yes, I'm fine." he assured the hunter.

Dean let out a relieved breath and pressed a kiss to Cas' forehead before reaching out to inspect his injured wrist.

Cas hissed in pain as Dean prodded it as gently as he could.

"Sorry, sorry." He said, tone apologetic, "Okay, it's not broken, just sprained. Here." He guided Cas up and over to the bed, settling him down before grabbing the first aid kit and sitting back down beside him and beginning to wrap it up.

As he did, Dean told Cas what he'd learned about how Ephram's host had allowed the angel to possess him, and about the Reverend Buddy Boyle.

"That makes sense." Castiel commented, watching in awe as Dean wrapped his wrist up, his hands, which could be so brutal in a fight, were nimble and gentle as he tended to Castiel's injury. Cas could imagine Dean as a child, patching Sam's wounds up, his heart breaking with every pained noise that sounded from his younger brother's mouth, "Angels need permission to possess a host, and using the media of today to acquire vessels is shrewd thinking. I wonder whose idea it was?"

"Whoever it is, we gotta find him and stop him before more people get hurt."

Dean finished wrapping the wrist in silence, taping off the bandages and gathering the supplies back into the bag before he looked up to find tears trickling silently down Castiel's cheeks.

"Cas? What's wrong?" he asked, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek and swipe the pad of his thumb across the skin, banishing the tears.

"Everything is so different." Castiel said, repeating his words from earlier. "As an angel, our Grace protects us when we take possession of a human body. It acts as a buffer between the physical sensations of the body and our own angelic perceptions. It dulls pain, regulates the body, and cushions emotions. We still feel them but they are…dull, distant. They do not control us. The longer I stayed down here and in this form, the stronger those feelings got but now…now I am exposed, vulnerable, and I don't…I can't…"

His voice cut off as a painful lump formed and a few more tears escaped. Dean lowered his hand and rubbed it soothingly over his shoulder.

"I feel so weak and helpless. Everything hurts." He looked up into Dean's eyes, his own glossy and bloodshot from the tears, "I used to be an angel Dean. I miss being an angel. I miss heaven and I miss hearing my brothers and sisters and I miss flying." His gruff voice softened to a whisper, "I miss my wings." His gaze wandered. "Sometimes I think I can still feel them; their weight. How good it used to feel to stretch them, to feel the air on them as I flew. I miss the wind and the sky and the freedom. I miss my home, Dean."

He looked back at Dean.

"Don't get me wrong, I love being here with you. If I didn't have this to anchor me I'm not sure what I would do, but I still miss heaven. And this pain; I have tried to do as you do, to push it away and ignore it, but it only seems to multiply when I do and I don't think I can do it anymore. How do you keep from feeling this way, Dean? How do you manage it?"

Dean felt his heart break for the man and pulled him in tight.

"Don't do that Cas, don't start off on the wrong foot, and for God's sake don't become me." He pulled back and rested both his hands on either side of Cas' jaw bone, "Just, tell me when you're feeling low and I'll help you alright? I want to help you."

And with that the dam broke and everything Castiel had felt since he had come crashing down from heaven rushed out in a deluge of pain and tears and grief. He let out a choked sob and Dean pulled him in, letting his head rest against his shoulder. He wrapped him in his arms as the other man wept into his jacket, broken sobs wracking his form as his body sought relief from the build-up of emotions he was not accustomed to and had not yet learned to control. It took a good five minutes for the fallen angel to finally calm down, sobs turning to tears turning to sniffling, and that's when Dean let go enough to reach over and grab the box of tissues from the nightstand, holding them out to his partner and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back as he wiped away the remnants of the spectacular breakdown he'd just had.

Dean leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together as his hand idly played with the short hairs at the nape of Cas' neck.

"How're you feeling?" he asked softly.

Cas sniffed.

"Tired," his voice was rough from the tears, "but good…lighter."

They pulled apart and Dean moved his hand to Castiel's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah, it's good to let it all out sometimes." he said, realizing how hypocritical he sounded.

"Why don't you do it more often then?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

"Listen, I don't want you keeping this all in anymore all right? You feel something, you come tell me, got it?"

Castiel nodded his agreement, and then frowned

"How do you do it? Bottle everything up?" His tone was genuinely curious.

Dean sighed.

"It's just the way I was raised, you know?" he said, trying and failing to keep his voice aloof, "My dad never really had much time for tears. Not from me anyway. I had to be strong, had to keep Sam safe."

Castiel considered Dean's words.

"If I have to promise to talk about my feelings, then you do too. It's only fair."

Dean's stomach rolled in discomfort at Cas' use of the phrase 'talk about our feelings', but nevertheless, he nodded.

"Okay." he agreed, wondering as he did so whether or not he would be able to keep that promise.

…

They prepared for bed, changing into pyjamas and brushing teeth in comfortable silence, and once they were settled in the bed they stared at each other through the dim light that filtered in through the thin blinds.

Dean reached out and ran his fingertips lightly over Castiel's cheek before leaning in and kissing him. Castiel responded, sucking in a breath through his nose and sliding closer along the sheets, bringing one hand up to tangle in Dean's short, dark blonde hair while the other snaked around his back, drawing him closer.

Ever since Castiel had first kissed Dean, all their kisses had ended the same way: with Dean eventually pulling back and either going to sleep or off to do something else, leaving Cas feeling frustrated and unsatisfied and he had been ruminating on the possible reasons for this behaviour. He understood that after kissing came sex and he also knew that Dean was no stranger to that particular act, nor was he particularly shy about it given his proclivity for it. So what was it? Castiel knew that, prior to him, Dean's sexual partners had been exclusively women, leading him to conclude that the problem was with his gender. But Dean hadn't been averse to kissing him.

The thoughts flew out of his head as Dean's tongue entered his mouth and an explosion of pleasurable sensation rushed through Castiel's body, sending blood rushing southwards. Cas let his hand slip down to where Dean's shirt ended, lifting the thin cotton and brushing the hot skin underneath. Perhaps tonight was the night. Perhaps Dean had just been 'taking things slow' as they often said in movies, 'waiting for the right time'. Maybe now was the right time.

Dean pulled back and Cas opened his eyes, watching the hunter as he smiled back at him, pecked him softly on the forehead, and gathered him into his arms.

"Night, Cas." he said softly.

Castiel lay with his head on Dean's chest, listening to the other man's heart thumping loudly and feeling the familiar disappointment flood in once the pleasure had dissipated. Perhaps now that Dean had promised to come to him with his problems, he would be able to get to the bottom of this. He just hoped that whatever he was doing wrong was something that could be fixed.

He closed his eyes that were still worn out and stinging from the all the bawling he had been doing earlier, unease settling in his stomach, and he dropped off quickly, wrung out from the stress of the day and the worries of the future.

…

The bunker was quiet when Dean and Cas returned. Sam, Linda, and Kevin were in the library looking exhausted as they continued to hit dead ends with the cuneiform translation.

"What did Crowley say?" Castiel asked as he set his bag down and moved over to the crowd.

"He said it was irreversible." Sam said, glancing warily over at Kevin, whose face was set in stone.

Castiel picked up the sheet, looking at it for a good five minutes before setting it down and sighing.

"He was right. This says there is no counter spell. It also suggests that my Grace is likely gone for good."

Silence followed this declaration as everyone digested the news and implications.

"Someone should probably go say sorry to Crowley for not believing him." Linda said, looking pointedly at Kevin who crossed his arms defiantly and steeled his jaw, giving off a clear signal that that 'someone' would not be him.

Castiel stood.

"I will go." He announced, knowing that of all the bunker's current inhabitants, he was the one who understood what Crowley was going through the best.

While Cas was gone, Dean started to help Sam tidy up the mounds of books that littered the table, having sent Kevin and his mom off to get some sleep. He was in the middle of setting books back on the shelves when Castiel's panicked shout sounded through the Bunker.

"DEAN! DEAN, COME QUICKLY!"

Dean dropped the books, not looking back to see where they fell as he tore out of the room, following the frantic yelling. He nearly ran headlong into Castiel as he turned a corner, grabbing the shorter man by the shoulders and checking him over for injury.

"What? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Castiel shook his head, trying to catch his breath from his mad dash for help.

"No, I'm okay, it's Crowley." He said between breaths as Sam skidded to a halt behind them, followed a second later by the Trans who had been roused by Castiel's shouts.

Without explaining farther, he turned and ran back the way he had come, heading for Crowley's rooms with the four of them close on his heels.

The sight that met their eyes when they piled into the room was not what anyone had expected. The former King of Hell lying prone and pale on top of the bedspread, crimson blood pooling beneath a long gash that had been cut lengthways into his bare forearm.

…

So, I did not plan for that chapter to end that way _at all_. I guess it is true what they say about characters having minds of their own.

Drop me a line and let me know what you thought, good or bad.


	13. Chapter 13

Once more huge kudos to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing!

**Trigger Warning**: **This episode contains discussions of rape and suicidal themes**

Here it is, 'The Talk', I hope you like it. Takes place during 9x07

Enjoy!

…

Castiel wound through the halls of the bunker until he reached the door, knocking lightly and calling out to the occupant.

"Crowley? It's Castiel."

He waited. When he got no response, he knocked again.

"Crowley, please, I would like to speak with you."

Still no answer. Cas tried the handle and found it open.

"Crowley?" The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. The room was filthy, clothes strewn everywhere, plates of mostly eaten meals sitting on every available surface, and in the middle of it all, lying on an unmade bed, was Crowley, with blood pumping from a gash that ran the length of his left forearm, and a bloody knife clutched loosely in his other hand.

Once he had gone for Dean's help, Castiel sprinted back into the room, falling to his knees on the bed and planting his hands over the wound, ignoring his injured wrist in favour of applying pressure as he tried desperately to keep the precious bodily fluid where it belonged - inside the body of the former demon.

…

"He'll live." Dean said tiredly, dropping onto the bed beside Castiel, who had already changed into his pyjamas and was sitting propped against the headboard staring at his hands in silence.

Sam and Dean had managed to stop the bleeding enough to stitch up the wound; roughly, but enough so that Crowley wouldn't bleed out. He hadn't woken as of yet and they had moved him to a room closer to where everyone else was in order to keep a better eye on him.

Castiel nodded.

"Perhaps I should go sit with him…"

Dean shook his head and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sam's already volunteered. You've had a long few days, why don't we just try to get some sleep, huh?"

Cas nodded, his expression still dazed as he continued to stare down at his hands, tracing the blue lines that snaked up his arm from his wrist. Dean shifted and placed his hands over Castiel's forcing the blue gaze up to meet his.

"How could he do it?" Cas asked softly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean sighed. He did not have any answers to explain what had just happened.

"I know how fragile the human body is, how easy it would be to just end it all. And yet the more time I spend in this form, in this mortal vessel, the more I find myself clinging to life. The desire to continue to survive is so strong." Cas turned his head to look at Dean with confused eyes, "I don't understand, Dean."

Dean pulled him in, planting a soft kiss on the messy dark brown hair before turning his head and resting his cheek on it, rubbing lightly at Cas' shoulder.

"What about last year, after purgatory. What you said then."

_If I go back, I'm afraid I might kill myself._

"I was an angel when I said that Dean. Life meant something very different to me then. As did death."

They sat in silence for a while, Dean running his fingers through Cas's soft hair and Cas tracing the pattern of Dean's T-shirt.

He rested his hand, fingers splayed, over Dean's chest, feeling the comforting pounding of his heart in his chest.

"I don't want you to die, Dean."

Castiel's voice was small, quiet, almost childlike, and Dean slid down the bed and turned so that they were lying face to face. Cas' eyes were large and bright despite the dimness of the room. Dean reached out and cupped his cheek.

"I don't want you to die either, Cas." he whispered.

"But one day we will." The fallen angel said.

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, but not for a while if I can help it."

"How do you deal with it?" Cas asked.

Dean frowned.

"Deal with what?"

"Knowing that one day you, me, everyone, everything will die? And not just knowing it, but _feeling_ it. How do humans manage such a burden of knowledge?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head.

"We just…do."

Castiel let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't worry, Cas. Everything will seem better in the morning."

"How?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible as Dean reached to turn the light off.

"You'll see." he said, gathering the man in his arms; trying to extend some comfort to the frightened and confused fallen angel who was asking questions Dean didn't have the answers to.

…

Sam glanced up from his book as the figure in the bed began to stir. Crowley blinked open his eyes and lay staring at the blank ceiling for a long moment. Finally, Sam broke the silence by holding out two white pills and a glass of water.

Crowley looked over at the movement and glanced at the offering before turning his gaze back upwards in refusal.

"Come on, Crowley, you just slit your wrist open. You're going to need these."

Crowley glanced back at the little white pills and then up at Sam's face before pushing himself into a sitting position and taking them, swallowing them down and chasing them with the offered water.

"Thank you." he said in a quiet, subdued voice.

Sam nodded and placed the empty glass on the bedside table, and turned back to the man.

"Why'd you do it, Crowley?"

The former King of Hell shot a withering glance at the younger Winchester's question.

"Is it really that big of a mystery?" he asked.

Sam sighed and shifted forwards, leaning his forearms on his lap.

"Look, I can't pretend that there isn't a part of me that wishes you were dead after everything you've done, after Sarah…" he trailed off at the mention of his dead friend. Sarah whom he had loved and who, in another life, could have been more, "But I thought that in that church we made a deal, to see it through. Forgiveness? Absolution? It is possible."

Crowley chucked dryly.

"Do you really believe that, moose?" he asked, his gaze penetrating, "Do you honestly believe that there is any hope of redemption for me?"

His tone and expression were cold and uncaring, but still Sam could see the pain that dwelt just beneath the surface, ready to surge up and drown the man at any moment.

Sam paused, and in the silence, Crowley nodded resignedly.

"Look, just don't do it again, okay? I may not like you, but I don't want you to die. And I don't really want to have to stitch you up again either. So can I have your word that you won't try it again?"

Crowley sent him a long stare as he deliberated before nodding.

"You have my word."

Sam sent him a dubious look and Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I swear on the grave of my son, Gavin Macleod, I will not attempt suicide again."

Sam frowned, but nodded regardless, deciding to leave the subject of Crowley's long dead son un-discussed.

"By the way, Cas read the cuneiform and he said the same thing you did, that the spell was irreversible. So thank you, for helping and not lying, and I'm sorry we didn't believe you."

Crowley gave him a hard look before nodding.

…

When Crowley next woke, Castiel, sainted Castiel, Dean's boy-toy Castiel, was sitting in the chair the giant had been occupying when he'd fallen asleep.

"You're awake." The fallen angel observed unnecessarily.

"Brilliant deduction." Crowley shot back, "You're a regular Sherlock Holmes you are."

Castiel frowned at the reference.

"Really? Arthur Conan Doyle? Nothing?"

Castiel's expression remained impassive.

"Jesus," Crowley said, running a hand over his face and through the beard that had grown on his cheeks in his inattention, "You need some serious lessons in pop culture, you know that?"

There was silence before Castiel spoke.

"I do not understand." He said.

"Sherlock Holmes is a detective created by the English author, Sir Arth–"

"I was not referring to the reference, Crowley."

Crowley glanced sideways at Castiel whose expression was a mess of confusion and turmoil.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me you never felt suicidal because of the things you did?" The former demon asked the former angel. "The people you killed, the angels you smote?"

Castiel sighed.

"There was a time I felt as though it would be better to just end it all, but I was an angel then, not a human. Now, I can feel my heart beating in my chest and air rushing into my lungs as this body works to sustain itself." he shook his head, "How can you give it all up?"

Crowley lay back against the pillows and sighed.

"I've already lived and died Castiel and I didn't do a terribly good job as a human the first time around. How can I expect to do a better job this time? Especially with so much to make up for."

Cas sighed and shook his head. He didn't speak. There was nothing to say.

…

Kevin hovered outside Crowley's room, deliberating on whether or not to go in.

Crowley had woken a few days ago but according to Sam and Dean, hadn't said much apart from a forced promise to never do it again. Kevin had been avoiding the Demon cum human but, at his mother's insistence, was here now.

He raised his fist to knock, but lowered it without making a sound.

He sighed.

He hated Crowley with a passion; the capture, the torture, the pursuit, Channing. Kevin closed his eyes. He could still see the casual, uncaring way Crowley had snapped her neck as he had escaped in the Impala. He struggled to control his breathing. The familiar rage surged through him at the memory of his now-dead girlfriend and how pointless her death had been.

How could he forgive the man after that?

But seeing him, pale and unmoving, with blood pouring from self-inflicted wounds was still fresh in his mind and he knew he had to at least talk to the guy, if only to understand why he had done it.

He steeled himself and raised his fist, rapping out a few knocks on the door.

Castiel opened the door.

"Hello Kevin." he greeted.

"Hey, do you think you could give us a minute?" he asked, gesturing to Crowley who lay propped up by pillows on the bed, looking about as surprised as Kevin felt at the prophet being there.

"Of course." Cas said softly, nodding to Crowley before departing.

Kevin shut the door behind him and turned to the man on the bed.

"Come to finish the job?" he asked in his rough accent.

Kevin frowned and took the seat vacated by Cas.

"No." he said tersely.

Crowley nodded and they lapsed into an awkward silence that seemed to stretch to infinity.

"You're such a coward, you know that?" Kevin finally said, words bursting from him as he sat forwards, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"And why do you say that?" Crowley asked, his demeanour calm in the face of Kevin's rage.

"Because you're running away from your problems. Taking the easy way out, that's why."

Crowley huffed out a laugh.

"So you think I tried to kill myself," the prophet flinched at the words, "because I wanted relief from my suffering? Because I wanted peace?" He leaned forwards, his gaze intent, "Tell me, Kevin, if I were to die, where do you think I would go, hmmm? To heaven, to eternal rest, to sit beside the throne and sing praises to God everyday and wander around in a white robe with a harp?" he scoffed, and sat back against the pillows that propped him up looking away, "No. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much good I do in the time left to me, I will never be able to make up for what I've done. So I thought I would save everybody the inconvenience of being here and dispose of myself for you. Hell is the only place I belong."

Kevin stared at the man on the bed, considering his words before standing and moving to the door.

"You're wrong, you know." he said as he paused, turning back, "You may have done terrible, horrible things. You may have tortured and maimed and killed. You may have bought and damned countless souls, but none of that means you don't deserve a chance at redemption. And it doesn't mean you deserve to go to Hell. Not if you _want_ to make up for it."

He turned, opening the door and allowing Castiel back into the room, leaving Crowley to ponder his words.

…

Crowley showed no signs of attempted suicide as the days passed and eventually he was left to his own devices once more, albeit with a markedly improved number of visitors and invitations to join in the various gatherings about the bunker, if only so they could keep a better eye on him.

Sam looked up from the book he had been reading at the sound of soft footsteps. Castiel was hovering in the entryway to the library, fidgeting and shuffling his feet.

"Hey, Cas, do you need something?"

The former angel seemed to deliberate for a few moments before making up his mind and stepping into the room.

"Yes." he said in his usual gruff, terse tones, pulling a chair out and sitting.

Sam waited for him to elaborate but he didn't say anything, just sat and pondered the table with a look of intense concentration.

"Okay." Sam said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, "Did you want to talk?"

"Dean and I have not yet had sex." he said suddenly, turning his intense gaze up to meet Sam's.

Sam stared back.

"Umm."

"From what I have observed of Dean's sexual exploits up until now, that is not normal."

"R-right, uh."

"I am concerned that my body's gender is…off-putting to your brother. He seems to enjoy kissing but whenever we move further, he pulls away. I just need to know if it's me, if perhaps I'm doing something wrong. I never thought…" Cas lowered his gaze to the table, tracing the grain of the wood. "I never imagined I would be able to have this relationship with Dean. He always seemed so closed off despite our…bond. But now…" Sam watched as a small smile graced the former angel's mouth and his eyes softened, "Now I cannot imagine life without him." He turned his gaze once more on Sam. "If I ruin this, like I've ruined everything else I have touched, I…" his gaze dropped in shame, "I don't want to have to continue on without it…without him."

Sam closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Of course Dean hadn't talked to Cas and of course Cas would blame himself for not knowing what to do. It was a wonder the two of them had made it this long.

"Listen Cas, Dean has some…issues, which he really should be talking to you about. But they have nothing to do with you all right? You aren't doing anything wrong, Dean's just an idiot."

Castiel still looked uncertain.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Sam smiled.

"Cas, I've never, and I mean never, seen Dean this relaxed or happy or content. I didn't even think it was possible for my brother to be like this. And that's all because of you."

Cas' cheeks flushed at the praise and his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"Don't worry, Cas, I'll knock some sense into my brother."

"Thank you Sam."

…

It was a few hours later that Dean wandered into the library, picking up his phone charger where he had left it lying on the table and plugging in his phone to power up and Sam leapt at the chance to question his brother about his boyfriend.

"So, Cas, talked to me today."

Dean glanced up.

"What? Why?"

"I dunno, maybe because you two have been together for over a month and you haven't moved past second base?"

Dean's face flushed and seemed to deflate and he sat back in his chair.

"Why didn't he come to me about it?"

"Because you give off this vibe of never wanting to talk about anything, and Cas is too scared of disappointing you or losing you to push you."

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his forehead and down his face.

"Shit." he muttered.

"Dean? Does this have anything to do with…Dad?"

Dean shot him a look, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before nodding minutely and looking away and down at the table, his arms wrapping around his torso in an unconscious gesture of comfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam said, knowing that those were seven words that Dean loathed more than anything.

Dean sent him a glare that clearly said 'No' but then he let out a sigh and shifted awkwardly in his chair.

"I'm…scared," he said, his words coming out stilted as though he was having to force them out. "I don't…I can't screw this up." He looked up at Sam, eyes intent, "Not with Cas."

Sam took in a breath, gathering the courage to have what he knew was going to be an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with his emotionally stunted brother.

"Dean, have you ever…with a guy…you know…since…?" He filled the unspoken words with vague gestures and looks that he hoped would convey his meaning without him having to actually say the words _have you had sex with a guy since Dad sexually assaulted you_ out loud.

Dean looked like he wanted to murder Sam for bringing it up but he sighed, he would do this. He would have this incredibly uncomfortable conversation with his brother. For Cas.

"Sort of." Dean answered and Sam raised his eyebrows in an unspoken invitation for Dean to elaborate. The older Winchester sighed and sat back in his chair, tapping his hand on his legs and averting his eyes.

"When you were at Stanford I ended up in San Francisco alone and, I dunno," he shrugged, "I figured, if I were to…experiment, no one would have to know."

The two brothers both knew that by 'no one' Dean meant 'Dad'.

"So I went to a bar, picked up a guy, and we went back to my motel room."

"And?" Sam said, not sure how graphic Dean was planning on getting but hoping, praying, he wouldn't be too detailed.

Dean took in a deep breath.

"We kissed and uh…stuff. It felt…good, really good. But then we got a little farther and I…I started to remember dad and what he did and how it had felt…I started to panic. I couldn't breath and I was shaking." He let out a breathy laugh, "I think the other guy thought I was having some sort of seizure. He left pretty quick."

"And you're worried that that'll happen with Cas." Sam inferred.

Dean nodded, not looking up.

"Look man, I don't even know how you managed to keep that secret for as long as you did and I can't even begin to understand how hard it was for you to tell me and Bobby about it, but you have got tell Cas, man. Aside from the fact that he deserves to know what he's getting into, I really think it'll help you."

Dean shot him a look that said he understood what Sam was saying, but he was reaching his chick flick quota for the century. Sam sighed and then frowned.

"Wait a second," he said, backtracking, "What were you doing in San Francisco?"

Dean shrugged.

"You think I let you go off to College without checking up on you? Please."

Sam looked at his brother. His big brother who always looked out for him and put him first. Who, despite the fact that they left on bad terms, had still made the effort to drive across the country to make sure that he was okay. He smiled.

"Wow, Dean, I-"

"Seriously dude, whatever you're about to say, don't."

The younger Winchester smiled wryly at his older brother.

"Thanks Dean."

"Shut up."

"Whatever, just go talk to your boyfriend because, apart from anything else, I really don't want to have that conversation with Cas ever again."

Dean sighed, but nodded.

"Yeah, you're right."

He stood but didn't move.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm going." he said, making his way toward the hallway that led to the rest of the bunker.

Sam sighed as he watched his bother go, praying he wouldn't screw this up.

A buzzing sound interrupted his musing and he looked down to find Dean's cell vibrating as it announced an incoming call.

He picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice sounded down the line, "I'm sorry, there's no D-dog—"

Before he could finish, Dean had snatched the phone away from his ear.

"I got it, I got it." he said by way of explanation, before turning and putting the phone to his ear, "Sonny, hey….So what's up?…Okay…All right…Yeah, just sit tight, I'll be there as soon as I can…Yeah."

He hung up the phone.

"So what was that all about, 'D-dog'?"

"Remember when we were kids that spring in upstate New York? Dad was on a rugaru hunt. We uh…we crashed at the, uh…the bungalow colony with the ping-pong table?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You disappeared. Dad came back. You were gone. He shipped me off to Bobby's for a couple of months and went and found you. You were lost on a hunt or something."

Dean nodded.

"That's what we told you. Right."

Sam frowned.

"I'm sorry, that's what you _told_ me?"

Dean fidgeted.

"Truth is uh…I lost the food money that Dad left for us in a card game. I knew you'd get hungry, so...I tried taking the five-finger discount at the local market and got busted. I wasn't on a hunt. They sent me to a boys home."

"A boys home, like a… a reform school?"

Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, more or less. It was a farm, and the guy who ran it, Sonny, he uh, you know, looked after me."

"Wait," Sam said, putting the pieces of Deans story together with the phone call he'd just heard, "does Sonny know what we do?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, "He's good people. I gave him the number to the Bat Phone and sounds like he's got something in our wheelhouse, so… You going to be cool to do this? Or are you still too tired?"

"Uh, no. Yeah, I'm just, uh…I'll be fine."

Dean looked pointedly at him.

"You sure? 'Cause even if Cas does want to come, this sounds like something I might need your back up on."

"Dean, I'll be fine. I've been feeling much better recently. I'll go grab my stuff. You tell Cas."

"Yeah."

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked, turning around. Dean stopped and looked at him. "Why didn't you just tell me you went to a boy's home?"

Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, it was Dad's idea. And then it just, you know, the story became the story. I was 16."

He turned to leave.

"Oh, and Dean?"

He looked back.

"Don't think this gets you out of talking to Cas."

Dean rolled his eyes and departed without a word.

Sam stood in the empty library contemplating what he'd just learned. Why had his father lied to him? And if Dean had been in one place the whole two months, how come it had taken John Winchester that long to find him? He may have been an awful father but he had been a damn good hunter, surely it wouldn't take too much investigating to find his son - especially if the authorities had been involved. In fact, if Dean as a minor had been caught shoplifting, John would have been notified immediately. So why had it taken so long?

Sam thought about it as he moved to his room to pack. Something told him there was a lot more to the story than Dean was letting on, as usual.

…

It took some convincing to get Cas to come along with them, and soon enough Dean found himself standing in a house full of memories, and Dean, Sam, and Cas found themselves investigating an enraged spirit that was killing people on the farm.

After a few false leads, and the tragic and ultimately unnecessary demise of a child's beloved action figure, the three of them managed to gank the ghost, or at least Tommy did, and the two hunters and the fallen angel got ready to say their goodbyes and head back out on the road, Dean hoping to get a few hours of driving in before stopping for the night.

Castiel was making his way out of the house, having used the facilities before the long drive that lay ahead of them, when he turned a corner into the hallway and nearly ran down Robin and Tommy as they stepped inside the entryway.

"Oh!" he said as he narrowly avoided a collision, "I apologize."

Robin smiled and shook her head as Timmy moved past him into the sitting room.

"It's okay."

Cas moved around her to the door but Robin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, ummm." Cas stopped and turned, "Take care of Dean okay?"

Cas frowned.

"How did you...?"

Dean and Cas hadn't really announced their relationship, too busy hunting and fighting a ghost to talk.

Robin rolled her eyes.

"Please, I'm not blind. I can see the way two you look at each other."

Cas smiled and blushed.

"I will endeavor to make Dean as happy as I can for as long as he'll have me."

Robin smiled.

"Good, he deserves that." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Cas found Dean and Sam saying goodbye to Sonny by the Impala and made his own farewells to the man.

"Take it easy man." Sonny said to Dean as he made his way back to the house before turning around.

"And Dean, take care of that boyfriend of yours, he's worth keeping around."

Dean gaped at Sonny's retreating back as Sam grinned and Cas frowned.

"Did everyone know?" Cas asked.

"You guys are pretty obvious." Sam said as Dean rounded the car to the diver's side.

…

They drove in silence through the darkness. Sam was dozing in the front seat, Castiel had his head pressed to the window in the back, watching the stars and the dark outline of the trees as they rushed passed, and Dean was lost in thought as the Impala's headlights lit the never-ending road that stretched out in front of them.

He thought about the house they had just left and the memories that had come back to him as he'd walked the halls. He'd never had a home to go back to apart from their house in Lawrence and, of course, his baby, but coming back to that place and being inundated with half-forgotten scenes, memories he had pushed down when he'd walked out of that house the last time, ripping himself away from the first chance he'd had at a happy normal life. It had been intense and thought provoking.

He remembered that moment when he'd looked out of the window and caught sight of Sam hanging out of the of the Impala, playing with the plastic plane that Dean had gotten for him out of the charity present box last Christmas (he didn't consider it stealing, after all the presents were for children who needed them and Sammy had definitely needed, no, deserved a present).

For two months he had been free of the responsibility of looking after his little brother, a job he had been given as a child – hadn't asked for, hadn't wanted even – and he had loved it. The freedom to just be himself without constantly worrying about where Sam was and if he was safe. Just focusing on himself and what he wanted. And then he had felt instantly guilty about loving it because he _did _want to be responsible, he _did_ want to keep his little brother safe. He just didn't want to have to do it. He wanted it to be a choice, not an obligation.

And he had desperately wanted to get away from his dad.

Hell, Sonny had been more of a father to him in two months than John Winchester had been to him his entire life. Sonny had taken an interest in him, had pushed him to excel in school, had gone to his wrestling competitions and had cheered for him. Sonny had told him he was proud of him. And just now, as they were leaving, Sonny had acknowledged his relationship with Cas in such an offhand, casual manner, as though it was no different from any other relationship, as though it was normal. As though it was acceptable.

Dean hadn't wanted to go back. But he also couldn't leave Sammy. Not there. Not with _him_. Because at least if Dean was around he could keep an eye on his father and look out for his little brother.

Dean had weighed the options, already knowing what choice he was going to make. He knew Robin would get hurt, but in the end he would always choose Sam. He would always choose his little brother. And he hadn't been lying when he'd told Sam earlier that he didn't know what he was talking about when Sam had said it couldn't have been easy, because it _had_ been easy. It had been the easiest decision he'd ever made. But at the same time it had been the most painful; tearing himself out of the life that had been given to him. Away from Sonny, away from Robin, away from his good grades at school and the stupid wrestling trophy which he left sitting on his bedside table. It had hurt so damn much.

So he told himself he didn't care, because if he admitted to that, he knew he'd drown.

He thought about Cas. About how patient the former angel had been with Dean, never pushing, never asking, never taking; just giving, waiting.

Cas deserved to know the truth. Regardless of how hard it would be for Dean to tell him or how painful it would be for the fallen angel to hear it, he needed to know.

And Dean needed to tell him; Dean needed to get this secret out before it ate away at him until there was nothing left.

_You did not deserve what that bastard did._

_When you look in the mirror, you want the guy looking back at you to be his own man._

_If I have to promise to talk about my feelings then you do too. It's only fair._

A motel sign lit up the darkness and Dean pulled the Impala into the lot, parking and killing the engine. Sam woke up and glanced at the time.

"Dude, I thought you were gonna drive a few more hours before we stopped?"

Dean didn't answer, just stood from the car and entered the building marked 'Reception'.

Sam looked back at Cas, who shrugged.

Dean came out of the office a few minutes later and threw a set of keys to Cas.

"Room 137. I'll be right there okay?"

Cas looked like he might protest for a second but sighed and nodded, hoisting his bag and moving off in the direction of their room.

Dean turned to Sam and held out the second set.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Cas and I need to have a conversation." He said, jiggling the keys a bit in an attempt to get Sam to take them.

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Really? You're going to do that now?"

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his head before dropping his hand.

"I've got to man. I owe it to Cas, and if I don't do it now…I don't know if I'll be able to work up the courage to do it again."

Sam nodded in understanding and took the keys from Dean's hand before pulling his brother in for a quick hug, clapping him on the back.

"Good luck, Dean. I'm proud of you."

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved his brother away half-heartedly.

"Whatever, dude. I'll see you in the morning."

…

Castiel was sitting on the bed, fidgeting as he waited for Dean. He wasn't sure what was going on and, though he trusted the other hunter implicitly, he was still wary.

Dean entered, locking the door and turning to look at Cas, who was sitting still and watching him tentatively.

"What's going on, Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean sighed and moved to lean against the cheap kitchen table, crossing his arms and feet.

"I got something I need to tell you, Cas. I should have told you this sooner, but…It's not easy for me to talk about. I…" He cut himself off. He knew he was rambling, and Cas was looking utterly confused from his position on the bed.

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

Dean sighed and stood, moving to join Cas on the bed, sitting sideways so he could face the other man. Cas shifted so he could look at Dean and brought his hand out to rest on Dean's bent knee.

"What is it?"

"You…talked to Sam. About us."

Cas frowned.

"Was I not supposed to?" he asked, "I didn't mean to upset you, I just didn't-"

"Hey, hey, hey." Dean stopped him, covering the hand that was on his leg with his own. "It's all right, I'm not mad. Although, I think Sam would appreciate if you didn't come to him about the more…physical aspects of our relationship again. But, you shouldn't have had to do that. I should have…talked to you, like I promised, I just... I guess I'm not really very good at this, Cas. I don't…I don't like to talk about how I feel or what's going on with me. I'm just not comfortable with it. But I want to try. For you."

Cas raised his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing, and Dean smiled at the unspoken show of support.

"I will listen to anything you have to say, Dean."

Dean nodded; taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have.

"Umm, so, when I was a teenager, my Dad caught me making out with this…guy. And he wasn't too happy about it."

"Your father was homophobic?" Cas asked softly and Dean looked up to find blue eyes staring at him as though he was the only thing in the universe. He sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he uh, he wasn't too pleased about my 'choice'."

"But, sexuality isn't a choice." Cas said with a frown.

"Yeah, well, try telling him that." Dean muttered, shifting and dragging a hand down his tired face. "Anyway, he got really pissed. Started yelling and calling me names. Then he left to go drinking and when he got back…"

Dean trailed off, his breathing quickening as memories assaulted him and his voice died in his throat. He shut his eyes, squeezing as though that would banish them. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes snapped up. Castiel's concerned gaze was staring back at him.

"Dean?" he asked softly, worry colouring his tones.

Dean could feel his body shaking. His lips trembled and he pursed them tightly to try to get them to stop. Tears burned in his eyes. He took in a breath.

"Dad, he…when he got back he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me into my bedroom. I thought he was gonna beat me. When he threw me down on the bed and started taking his belt off I thought he was going to hit me with it. I was prepared for that, wasn't like it was the first time, but then he took his pants off and he said….he said, 'If you want to whore around with the local fags then that's exactly what you'll get'." Dean paused, staring off at nothing, lost in the memory, "And then he raped me."

The motel room was silent following Dean's revelation. Dean looked up to see how Castiel had reacted and saw a look on the former angel's face that reminded Dean of the way Cas used to be when they'd first met. Back when the angel had been full of righteous power and angelic wrath. The Castiel that had seen battle and fought with gods and had lived millennia before he had plucked Dean from the pit and burned his mark into Dean's shoulder and soul. His mouth was set in a hard line, his hands had tightened into fists, and his eyes shone with rage and pain and love.

He took in a breath, shutting his eyes momentarily and unclenching his fists, letting the anger flow out of him and when he opened his eyes again, all Dean could see was raw pain and anguish. Cas reached forward a hand and, as gently as possible, wiped the tears that had fallen unnoticed from Dean's eyes. He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he did so, and rested his forehead against Dean's, brushing his fingers through the hunter's close-cropped hair.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." he said, his voice soft with sorrow.

Dean couldn't hold the tears back and they tricked down his cheeks and dripped from his nose as Castiel's other arm came around his back and the hand that was in his hair pushed gently until his face rested on Cas' shoulder. He brought up his hands to fist Castiel's shirt.

"He raped me Cas. He _raped_ me."

The words were broken as they spilt forth from his mouth, words that had been trapped inside him so long, kept secret and hidden deep beneath layer upon layer of pain and shame and hurt. But now that they were out, now that they had been spoken, he couldn't seem to stop saying them almost as though he couldn't believe them himself.

Castiel's arms tightened around Dean, his breath hitching as his heart broke for the man in his arms. He had never felt the desire to kill before. Sure he had done his share of smiting and he had killed many angels, during the war and his time as 'God', but never had he felt such rage rise up in him as he did now and in that moment he knew for a fact that, grace or no grace, if John Winchester were to appear now, here in this room, he would not hesitate to wrap his hands around the man's neck and squeeze. He was, after all, a creature of wrath; a soldier of heaven, born for battle to do God's bidding; to protect good and destroy evil.

He may have fallen, he may no longer be an angel, but he loved the man whom he held in his arms. He had pulled him from hell and rebuilt him. Dean may have done questionable things but they were always born out of a need and desire to protect those who could not protect themselves and he had not deserved half the things that he had been put through, let alone what he had just revealed his father had done to him.

But he was not an angel and John Winchester was long dead. All he could do now was offer what little comfort he could give to the weeping man in his arms. So he wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, pulling the both of them down so they lay on the cheap motel bed sheets. Dean moved in closer, seeking comfort and protection and Castiel looked down at him.

The last time the former angel had seen the hunter looking so lost and exposed and vulnerable had been when he had encountered his soul in hell.

When Castiel had finally reached Dean, and Dean had turned from the soul he had been torturing, the anger and pain and sadistic fury that had driven him to accept Alistair's offer of relief had melted at the sight of Castiel's heavenly presence and he had collapsed, distraught and broken and sobbing in the presence of something so pure in the depths of a place so twisted and dark. When Castiel had reached for him, Dean had fought him tooth and nail, animalistic rage taking over as he struggled against the goodness that he didn't feel he deserved until Castiel was forced to grab hold of the soul itself and flee, dragging Dean along behind him. He remembered the ecstasy of his grace connecting with the soul of Dean Winchester, ecstasy that had fuelled his cry.

_Dean Winchester is saved!_

It had been in that moment of connection that Castiel's unwavering loyalty to heaven had begun to crack. As Hester had said, the moment he had laid his hands on Dean he had been lost, his loyalties had been divided. That was the moment he had begun his long, slow fall from grace.

But as he held onto the weeping hunter, he couldn't help but feel that it had all been worth it, just to be able to lie here with Dean in his arms and comfort him through his grief.

...

So? What did you think?


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to Rainbow Fruit loop for Betaing

Takes place during 9x08.

**Warning: Discussions of rape and mild sexual content**

Enjoy!

...

He was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because in the dream he was an angel, and he was in heaven. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent that was so unlike anything he had come across on earth.

He sighed wistfully.

His time as a human was not unwelcome. He was very thankful for Dean and Sam, mostly Dean, and the comfortable domesticity that they had fallen into. But it was hard not to feel a little homesick.

He watched the clouds pass, the kite a splash of vivid red against the blue of the sky. He heard birds chirping and wind rustling through the grass.

He closed his eyes once more, and felt a hand caress his face, swiping a soft thumb across his cheeks as warm lips pressed themselves to his own. A shiver of pleasure washed over him and Castiel felt his mind shift from the tranquil depths of sleep to the waking world to find Dean running his fingers down the soft cotton of the t-shirt he had worn to bed. Dean was brushing against the warm skin at the waist of his pyjama bottoms, and heat lanced through Castiel's body at the touch. He felt himself respond, blood rushing southwards as his breathing began to pick up. Dean was sucking at the base of his neck, and Cas moaned as his hands roamed the hunter's firm body.

Idly, he considered stopping Dean, slowing down and taking a breath to check in and see how the other man was doing, but then Dean's hand moved up his chest, underneath the shirt he wore, his fingers brushed over a nipple—

All thoughts rushed out of Castiel's head as he moaned Dean's name.

They continued kissing, hands roaming, touching, feeling. Castiel allowed his hand to slip beneath the waistband of the sweats Dean wore, fingers brushing over coarse hair and warm flesh. Dean's breathing sped up and Cas began stroking, fascinated by the feel and by his own body's response.

It took a few seconds of Dean's laboured breathing and the other man squeezing his arm too tightly for him to come back to himself and realize that Dean was no longer enjoying the experience.

"Dean? Dean!" Cas said, pulling his hands up to cup Dean's face, which was buried in the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he fought against the panic welling inside him. "Dean?"

Dean shied away from the touch, breaths turning to gasps as his body shook. He whimpered out a litany of, "No, no, no, please, no."

"Dean, listen to me. It's okay." Castiel said, making sure to keep his voice soft and soothing as the books he'd read had said to do. "I'm going to touch you on your shoulder. I won't hurt you."

He rested his hand lightly on the hunter's shoulder. Dean jumped, but Cas kept it there, warm and still. Not moving, not threatening.

Cas continued speaking.

"It's all right, Dean. Just breathe with me, okay? Slowly. In and out, in and out."

He breathed as he spoke and took Dean's hand, gently bringing it up to his chest so he could feel Castiel's slow and steady breathing pattern. Occasional whimpers still escaped Dan's mouth but his breathing slowed eventually to match Castiel's, who continued to speak, directing his breath.

Dean's eyes opened, the normally vivid green dulled as he blinked sluggishly in the dim light, and Cas let himself relax. This wasn't the first time Dean had been subject to a panic attack in the last week, and Cas cursed himself for losing control.

"Sorry, Cas." Dean said softly, his voice small and shameful.

"No, no, Dean." Cas said, scooting down so he was lying facing the other man, reaching out to run his fingers along Dean's cheek, "It's my fault. I should have been paying more attention to you."

Dean shook his head and grabbed Castiel's hand, pressing a kiss to the palm.

"It's all right."

…

"I just want you to know that I really want this, I just-"

"Dean, stop." Cas reached out a hand and planted it on the hunter's firm chest, halting his movement. They turned to face each other in the dim hallway of the bunker, hesitant green meeting unwavering blue.

It had been a week since Dean had opened up to Cas in the motel room about what his father had done and, in the intervening days, Dean had become more and more physically demonstrative and more and more frustrated when the panic still continued to set in as it had that morning. Dean turned to face the other man, shoulders sagging with disappointment at his own perceived weakness.

"You need to be patient with this." Castiel said in his low, firm tones. "This isn't something that's just going to be fixed overnight."

Dean sighed impatiently and leaned back against the wall, tapping his head lightly against the concrete and screwing his eyes shut.

"I thought talking about it was supposed to fix it. That's what all the sappy movies and Sam always say."

Cas moved in closer, pressing his body against Dean's and intertwining their fingers.

"The talking has helped, Dean, I know you know that. But it's a slow process and it takes time. You can't just skip to the end. You have to let yourself heal." As he spoke, he moved in closer and closer until he was whispering against Dean's lips. "It will be okay, I'm not going anywhere."

Dean smiled and closed what little gap there was left between them, pressing his lips to Cas' and kissing him slowly, his arms encircling his torso and his hands running over the strong muscles of the former angel's back, fisting the plaid shirt that Cas had borrowed from Dean because he 'liked the way it smelled'.

Cas opened his mouth, remembering well what the pizza man had taught him, and moaned at the explosion of pleasure that accompanied Dean's tongue as it delved into his mouth and intertwined with his own.

A throat clearing separated them and they glanced towards the sound, spying Crowley standing at the end of the corridor, a suggestive eyebrow raised.

"Oh by all means don't stop on my account." The former demon said with a smirk, moving towards them and then past and into the kitchen.

Cas and Dean breathed heavily against each other before following the man.

…

As Dean entered the kitchen, he caught sight of his brother conked out at the table, head resting on one outstretched arm, Crowley sitting at the other end. Dean held a finger to his lips to shush them and then grabbed a bowl and a cup of coffee, moving silently toward the table before plunking the bowl down loudly beside Sam's head. Sam jumped in his seat and Dean snickered as he sat down.

"Hey." he greeted.

"Hey." Sam replied and he glanced at his audience, watching as Crowley turned back to his corn flakes and Cas sat down on the other side of Dean with his own bowl and coffee.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his mothering instincts towards Sam coming out despite the way he had chosen to wake his brother.

"Yeah." Sam assured, rubbing his face as Dean reached for the cereal box and poured a bowl for Cas and himself, "Just resting my eyes for a second."

He yawned as Cas poured milk into his and Dean's bowls.

"Seriously, you want a pillow?" Dean asked as he mixed his cornflakes up and took a bite.

"No, I'm fine." Sam answered.

"You sick?" Dean asked, worried that Sam's miraculous recovery had somehow taken a turn for the worst.

"I'm not sick." Sam assured, "I just feel like my battery can't recharge."

"Your body has expended a great deal of energy healing you." Cas interjected. "How have you been sleeping?"

Sam shrugged.

"Fine."

Dean, Cas, and Crowley all looked doubtfully at him and he sighed.

"I've just…I've been sleeping so much, I'm sick of it. I just want to be better already."

Castiel rolled his eyes and went back to his cereal, muttering about 'stubborn Winchesters'.

Dean's phone ringing interrupted the conversation.

"Sheriff Mills." He greeted. Crowley glanced up from his meal, an intense look in his eyes. "Hold on, Sam's here too."

"Jody." Sam said once Dean had hit the speaker button and set the phone down on the table in between them.

"Hey Sam," the Sheriff answered, "Uh, I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction."

Jody explained the situation and Dean and Sam shared a nod.

"Yeah, sounds like our kind of thing." Dean said, "Alright, we'll head out soon."

"Alright, see you then, boys."

"May I speak with her?"

Dean had picked up the phone to end the call when Crowley spoke from the other end of the table.

"Who was that?" Jody asked over the phone.

"Hang on." Dean said before turning off the speaker and holding the phone to his chest. "Why the hell do you want to talk to her?"

Crowley looked soberly at Dean.

"I know who that was and I know what I did to her. I need to make amends."

Dean stared stonily back and Sam glared.

"Please." The former demon begged.

Sam and Dean shared a glance before Dean put the phone back to his ear.

"Hey Jody, you remember Crowley?"

"The demon who tried to kill me with magic?" Jody asked, remembering well the blind date gone very, very wrong.

"Yeah, well he's here."

"What?" She demanded, loud enough for the whole table to hear. "Why is he with you? I thought you said he was like the King of Hell or something?"

"Yeah, well Sam cured him so now he's human, and he's living with us at the bunker."

There was a pause.

"That sounds cosy." The sheriff commented sarcastically.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Anyway, he says he wants to talk to you. You can feel free to tell him to piss off."

There was more silence down the line before Jody spoke again.

"Put him on." she said, her tone hard.

"Are you sure?"

"Just put him on, Dean."

Dean handed over the phone, sending a glare Crowley's way for good measure.

"Sheriff Mills." Crowley greeted in his gruff accent.

"What do you want?" She asked, her resolve shining through in her voice.

"I want to apologize." he said in a soft voice. "I know I can never make up for what I did, what I've done. And I don't expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I truly regret everything."

Crowley waited with bated breath for the sheriff to answer.

"All right." came the response, cold and unemotional. "You can give me back to Dean now."

Crowley sighed but passed the phone back before standing and taking his dishes to the sink. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And in the end that was really all he could hope for.

…

Dean pulled his baby into the parking lot of 'Casey's Great Plains Diner', parking her next to where the Sheriff was standing. He then got out to greet their old friend.

"Sheriff." Dean greeted as Sam and Cas got out, Sam moving in to give her a hug.

She stepped back and eyed the blue-eyed man not dressed as a fed. He was standing far closer to Dean than she'd ever have thought Dean would be comfortable with. Not that she knew the boys that well, but Dean did have a certain…'image' that he put forward and this didn't really compute with that.

"Jody," Dean smiled, pulling the man forward, "This is Cas. He's just here for uh, moral support."

She glanced from Dean's easy smile to Cas' serious expression and then to their clasped hands.

"Nice to meet you." she said, holding out her hand to shake Cas'.

"Likewise." he answered. "I've heard many great things about you."

"So?" Sam asked once the pleasantries were out of the way.

Jody brought them up to speed on what had happened as well as the connection they all shared.

"They were all members of Good Faith Church here. My church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it."

"Hmm." Dean said with a considering glance.

"What?"

Dean shook his head.

"Didn't peg you for churchy." He felt eyes on him and looked over to see Castiel glaring. "What?"

Jody cocked her head.

"Yeah, you know, choking on a ladies room floor 'cause of witchcraft? Kind of makes a higher power seem relevant."

Sam nodded and shared a glance with Castiel.

"Hey, sorry about this morning by the way." Dean said.

"Yeah." Jody agreed, "It was a little strange. I can't imagine what it's been like to live with the guy." Dean shrugged. "But in a way, it was nice."

"Forgiveness can be very healing." Cas said in a formal tone, sounding more like his old self than he had since the fall.

Jody took in his words and smiled.

"Jody," Dean asked, "are you sure you're, uh, ready to jump back into the fray?"

Jody fixed him with her no-nonsense Sheriff stare.

"This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I'll be."

Dean nodded.

"Okay," Sam said, "so we have missing church folk and super-strength." he looked over at Dean and Cas, "Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be that Buddy Boyle guy?"

"Wh– angels." Jody interrupted, "You're joking."

"Don't get your pants on fire." Dean answered, "They suck."

This time Cas hit him. Hard.

"Ow." Dean said, clutching his upper arm. Despite not having his angelic powers, the former angel could still cause pain when he wanted to. "Not you, obviously."

Jody stared between the hunter and the still-glaring Cas.

"Wait, _what_?"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured to Cas with his head.

"He used to be an angel."

"My name is Castiel. My grace was stolen by Metatron and used to cast all of the angels out of heaven."

"Remember that meteor shower a few months back?" Sam asked.

Jody stared between the three of them, mouth open and eyes blinking before she shook her head, closed her eyes and sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, you got a former demon and a former angel living with you guys and from the looks of it you," she pointed at Dean, "are in love with one of them." She frowned, "There's a sitcom in there somewhere…"

"Anyway." Sam said in an attempt to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. "You said there was a witness?"

…

The witness, 'Slim', yielded no definite answers, and so they decided to head over to the Good Faith Church to do some digging.

"Come on, Cas." Dean pleaded as he and Sam changed out of their suits and into their civvies. "It's just undercover work, and it's a church; right up your alley!"

"I don't know, Dean." Cas said from his position on the bed.

Dean pulled his plaid shirt on over his navy blue t-shirt and sat down facing the ex-angel on the bed.

"What is it?" he asked softy, taking one of Cas' hands in both of his.

Cas looked at their hands and sighed, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's and then looking away.

"It's not like there's gonna be any monsters there." Dean assured.

Cas looked back at Dean.

"But what if there are? We still don't know what we're dealing with."

Dean sighed.

"Then I'll protect you." he said with conviction. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Besides, you helped us gank that ghost in New York last week."

"I only came because you wouldn't stop bugging me until I agreed."

"Yeah, and now I know that that tactic works."

Cas sighed, and moved to get up off the bed.

"Fine." he said in a resigned voice, "I swear you're worse than Gabriel sometimes."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

…

They were shown around the church by a buttoned up red-head in a purple cardigan and peter-pan collar named, quite aptly, Bonny. Eventually they ended up in the office where Sam managed to broach the subject of the missing people and they discovered that all four of them had been part of the same chastity group.

"Count us in!" Sam said eagerly when they were informed that the meeting was 'members only'.

Dean shot Sam a look and Cas frowned in the younger Winchester's direction as Bonny practically vibrated with excitement at the prospect of new recruits and left to get the paperwork.

"All righty." She said, sitting back down and handing out three clipboards, "Just sign there and your purification can begin."

"Purity pledge?" Sam read as he looked down at the form.

Bonny nodded.

"It's a commitment to your virginity."

Cas signed his name on the line and then, deciding it might look a little suspicious to only have one name, added _Winchester_ to the end of it. He smiled for a moment at the unexpected feeling of warmth that coursed though him at seeing those two names written out together before he replaced the pen and handed the clipboard back to the woman. She beamed at him, and he glanced over to find Sam and Dean looking at him.

"What?"

Bonny looked expectantly at the two Winchesters who had yet to sign anything.

"I don't think we can really 'un-ring' that bell." Dean said by way of explanation. "You know what I mean."

Bonny looked taken aback.

"Oh, I see." she said disapprovingly, "Well, if you just ask God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then you'll be born again as a virgin in his eyes."

"So you just hit the virginity 'do over' button and all's good with the man upstairs?" Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Castiel rolling his eyes at Dean's ungraceful choice of phrase.

Bonny looked even more offended.

"It's not a button." she said quietly, "And this isn't just a piece of paper. This is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin again until marriage."

Bonny's words, despite being bat-shit crazy, struck a chord in Dean. Clean slate, the chance to do it all over again, to reclaim his virginity and wipe away everything else; the panic attacks, the slew of faceless, nameless, meaningless hook-ups, and, most importantly of all, his father.

"You had me at clean slate." he said, brandishing his pen, "Let's do this."

As he scrawled his signature on the line beneath the pledge, he couldn't help but feel a little piece of the knot that was the secret of his father's violation, breaking off and leaving him feeling marginally lighter and perhaps one step closer to letting it all go.

…

Dean shifted in his folded chair as the hot blond 'Suzie' started the meeting with a prayer for the missing members. Cas immediately closed his eyes and bowed his head along with the rest of the group and, a second later, so did Sam. Dean stared intently at Suzie. There was something…familiar about her. He cocked his head, wracking his brain when Sam's gaze out of the corner of his eyes distracted him and he looked over. His brother glared and looked pointedly at Cas who sat on his other side and Dean nodded, closing his eyes and bowing his head. It's not as though he'd been checking her out, there was just…something.

"Amen." Suzie said, "Now, would anyone like to share?"

Immediately, an uptight redhead spoke up.

"I have a new piece of verse that I wrote," she said, standing. "It's called 'Sex is a racket, and God's ball is in your court'."

Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel frowned and cocked his head in bewilderment at the ideas humans concocted. Did they truly believe that his father would have given them the pleasure of fornication if he expected them not experience let alone _enjoy_ it? It really was quite irrational.

"And we would love to hear that, Tammy, later." Suzie interrupted, turning to the three men, "Why don't we hear from our new friends? Sam, what brought you here to reclaim your virginity?"

Sam shifted.

"Well, I guess because every woman I've...ever... had relations with, uh...it...hasn't ended well."

Dean laughed at the understatement.

"He ain't lying."

Suzy frowned at Dean before looking back at Sam.

"Thank you for being here, Sam. Stay strong. Stay pure."

There was a chorus of 'Stay strong, stay pure' that did not fail to creep the hell out of Dean.

"Castiel." Suzy said, looking toward the fallen angel, "I understand that you are still a virgin."

Cas nodded.

"Yes." he answered simply.

There was a round of applause and a few suggestive looks thrown his way that made Dean want to growl and show the girls his claim on the blue-eyed man, but he restrained himself.

"And would you like to share your secret of staying pure?"

"I suppose I have just been waiting for the right person." he said with a small smile.

"And has all that waiting been a struggle?"

"Not at all." he said with conviction. His gaze moved to Dean and the expression in those endless blue eyes was so open and loving that Dean felt his heart clench, knowing that what Cas was saying was about him and one hundred percent true. "When it comes to the right person, it's the easiest thing in the world."

There was a chorus of 'awwws' from the women.

"And you, Dean?" Suzy said, "What set you on the path away from sin?"

Dean shrugged and cleared his throat. He could see Sam looking worriedly at him from the corner of his eye.

"Uh, hard to say, exactly." Dean hedged, "Yeah. Sex has always felt, I don't know, good, you know? I mean, really, really good." Sam glared and Dean remembered who he was talking to, "Uh...But, uh... Sometimes, it just makes you feel bad, you know? You're drunk. You shack up. Then, it's the whole morning thing. You know, 'Hey, that was fun'. And then, 'adios,' you know? Always the 'adios'. But, you know, when you get down to it, what's the big deal, right? I mean, sure, there's the touching and the feeling all of each other, my hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body, the two of us moving together, pressing and pulling... Grinding. Then you hit that sweet spot, and everything just builds and builds and builds until it all just..." Dean trailed off.

He thought about Castiel who sat beside him and how patient he'd been with Dean in the past few weeks since Dean had poured his heart out to him in the crappy motel room. They had made some headway in their physical relationship, moving forward slowly and tentatively, Cas always quick to ask Dean how he was feeling and if it was too much. Truth be told, at times it was annoying as hell and Dean may or may not have snapped at Cas once or twice for being overbearing and overly cautious, but sitting here in this group, surrounded by strangers and the two people he loved and trusted most in the world, he was thankful for the support he had no matter how saccharine that sounded.

"The truth is…" he started and hesitated as his heart began to pound and his palms began to sweat and was he actually going to do this? He glanced over at Cas who was starting at him with open adoration and love expressed in his serene expression and Dean knew that no matter what he did, whether he talked or not, Cas and Sam would be there for him. He shifted in the cheap plastic chair and cleared his throat. "The truth is, when I was a teenager, I was…raped."

A collective gasp sounded from the group of women and whispers broke out. Dean could feel his hands shake and his face heat from the confession. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes and saw Sam staring at him in open astonishment and, looking to his other side, Cas with concern colouring his features.

"After that," he continued once Suzy had shushed everyone and gestured for Dean to go on. "I guess sex became a way to prove myself. To prove that…he hadn't broken me; that he didn't control me. But along the way it got…all twisted and it became cold, and…empty. I mean sure it feels great, that moment you know? But afterwards, you just end up feeling lonelier than you did before; like there's this void inside you that can't be filled. I guess, coming here and signing the pledge is a chance for me to start over. So that I can finally let go of what happened and move on and finally be happy."

He blinked back tears as he finished and looked over at Castiel who was gazing at him with eyes bright from unshed tears, and Dean shot him a small, wobbly smile.

"Sorry." he said, standing and moving out of the room as the tears he could no longer hold at bay burst forth. Maybe he was at a point where he could talk about his issues with people, but he was definitely still not comfortable crying in public.

He turned a few corners and found himself in the church kitchen, a shaking hand held to his mouth as tears burned in his eyes. He spun around at the sound of the door opening behind him and came face to face with Castiel, whose brow was furrowed with concern. He moved forward slowly, a comforting hand coming out to rest on Dean's upper arm. He didn't say anything, just rubbed his thumb lightly over the fabric of Dean's shirt, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut and crowded into Cas' space, seeking comfort, which the former angel was more than willing to give. Dean cried silent tears into Cas' shirt, the only sound the occasional sniffle, and Cas rubbed Dean's back as they rode out the wave of melancholy together.

…

Sam found Dean and Cas in the kitchen, still locked in their embrace, tear tracks drying on Dean's cheeks. He wiped them away at the sight of his brother, cheeks burning in embarrassment as he pulled away from Castiel.

"Hey." he said casually, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Hey." Sam answered back, concern for his brother shining through his own off-hand tones. "The meeting finished pretty quick after you left. Do you want to do a little digging? Or do you want to go back to the motel?"

Dean ran his hands through his short hair and over his face. He thought about going back out there, facing the strangers to whom he had just spilled one of his deepest, darkest secrets.

He shook his head.

"I– I don't think I can."

"It's okay." Sam reassured softly, "Cas can take you back, I got this one."

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, to prove that he could still do the job but the idea of going out there… he shuddered.

"Okay." he agreed, and moved towards the door.

"Hey Dean?" Sam's words stopped him and he glanced back at his younger brother. "I'm really proud of you. That took a lot of guts and…I just— I'm proud of you."

The words were inelegant, but Dean smiled regardless, and nodded.

"Thanks, Sammy."


	15. Chapter 15

Beta'd by Rainbow Fruit Loop

Warning for references to sexual abuse.

Enjoy!

...

Jody was on the computer and Castiel was looking over the witness statement made by Barb Blanton's mother when Sam returned from questioning Tammy.

"Hey." He greeted, and both Jody and Cas held their fingers to their mouths, gesturing to the bed in the far corner where Dean was sprawled out, still fully clothed and fast asleep.

Sam sent a concerned glance towards Cas. "He all right?" he whispered.

Cas nodded.

"He was a little subdued, but I believe he will be okay. Did you find anything out?"

"Yeah." Sam said, shucking his coat and moving over to the table. "Apparently, two of our vics, Honor and Pastor Fred, did the dirty."

"Well, they're not the only ones." Jody replied.

In hushed tones, Jody informed Sam of Barb and her fiancée's activities prior to their capture.

A moan from the bed interrupted their quiet discussion and all three glanced over just as Dean began whimpering and thrashing around in his sleep, clearly in the throes of some nightmare.

Cas shot out of his chair and over to the distressed man, settling beside him.

"Dean, wake up, it's all right." he said softly as he reached out his hand to rest on Dean's shoulder.

Dean flinched away from the contact, his eyes snapping open and his breathing laboured as he scuffled to the edge of the bed.

"Dean?" Cas said slowly, his hands held up in a pacifying gesture.

It seemed to take Dean a few moments to get his bearings and slow his breathing, but eventually he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

"Cas?" he said, his voice still thick from sleep.

Castiel moved forward slowly, as though approaching an injured animal.

"It's okay, Dean." he said, his voice calm and soothing. "You were just having a nightmare, that's all."

He laid his hand slowly and gently on Dean's shoulder. Dean flinched at the touch, but soon relaxed into the comforting gesture and lowered his head to rest on Cas' shoulder, allowing his breathing to even out and his heart to stop pounding in his chest. Cas wrapped one arm around his back and threaded the fingers of the other through his hair.

Sam and Jody averted their eyes from the intimate moment and Jody sent a concerned and questioning look Sam's way. He sighed and shook his head. It was for Dean to tell if he wanted to.

Jody stood and moved to the two boys on the bed, her motherly instincts still active despite having no child to direct them to.

"Dean?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his back.

Dean sucked in a breath and blew it out, rising his head and turning; neutral mask in place.

"Yeah?" he answered in an as off-hand a manner as he could manage.

Jody sent him a glare that clearly said for him to cut it out before she smacked him.

"What's wrong?"

Dean sighed and looked at Cas, who looked back impassively, and Sam, who had settled on the bed opposite and had his 'concerned brother' expression on.

"Well, I guess it doesn't much matter now if one more person knows." he said softly. He turned to Jody. "I may or may not have blabbed to the entire purity group about how my dad…sexually abused me when I was a teenager."

Despite his attempts at a casual, uncaring tone, Dean's voice cracked and a painful lump threatened to close up his throat.

Jody sat in shocked silence for a few moments, trying to digest what she'd just heard.

"Jesus, Dean." she said finally, her hand idly rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, he wasn't too happy when he came home to find me making out with another guy, so…" he trailed off, playing with a loose thread in the bedspread.

"That's no excuse." she said in her no-nonsense, sheriff/mom voice, and without another word, she pulled him into a hug.

Dean closed his eyes at the warmth that enveloped him. With Sam, their hugs tended to be quick, a short squeeze and a manly clap on the back. With Cas, there was always so much more going on, burning and building beneath the surface.

This was more like the way Ellen used to hug him, and the way his mom had; wrapping him in maternal warmth that made him feel safe and secure and loved, no matter how old he might be. He did not cry, just wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder. He could almost imagine the smell of apple pie and freshly baked bread and the floral perfume that his mother used to wear. The one that came from the fancy bottle that had sat on the bathroom counter.

He let himself sink into the sheriff's embrace and allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that it was his own mother holding him tight.

"So," he said eventually, pulling back and trying to divert the attention away from himself. "What have we learned?"

Sam brought him up to speed while Dean splashed water on his face to wipe away the last remnants of tears, and to wake himself up.

"You know," Jody said once Sam had finished informing Dean, "I'm thinking whatever this thing is, it's not going after virgins, even born-again virgins."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"It's taking virgins who break their chastity vow." He looked over at Cas and Dean. "So dragons are off the list."

The two men nodded while Jody gaped.

"I'm sor—dragons?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Those are a thing?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Too many things are things."

He then sighed and sank into Castiel's vacated chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean asked.

Sam looked over at his brother; who was still concerned with his safety, despite everything he was going through. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We need to figure out what's taking these people."

"Vesta." Cas said softly, a pensive look in his blue eyes.

"What?"

"Vesta. Or Hestia if you prefer. Grecko-Roman goddess of the hearth and purity. Her followers were required to stay celibate for thirty years and if they broke their vow…"

"What?"

Cas looked up at the three other occupants of the room.

"They were buried alive."

"And you think that's what's happening here?" Sam asked.

"Her magic resembled blue fire which she used to control her followers and kill those who opposed her."

"Do you know how to kill her?" Dean asked.

"Oak, stained in the blood of a virgin."

"Okay." Jody said, "Where are we gonna get a virgin?"

"I'm a virgin!" Sam announced.

Dean, Cas and Jody stared at him.

"I think we need the real McCoy here, Sam." Jody commented.

Sam's face fell.

"I can provide the blood." Cas said calmly.

Jody stared.

"Really?" she asked.

"Angel, remember?" Dean reminded her. "Okay, so all we need is an oak branch." He stood and pulled on his jacket, "Is there some way of summoning her?" he asked Cas.

Castiel shook his head.

"I'm unsure."

"Well, see what you can find. I'll be back soon."

"Wait." Cas said, standing and grabbing Dean's coat. "I will come with you."

"Cas, I don't need–"

"Dean, do you know what an oak tree looks like?"

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it.

"No."

"Then I will come." He turned to Sam and Jody. "I know you may not like it, but I would suggest calling Crowley. He is much more familiar with the pagans than I."

…

"Huh." Dean said, staring up at the monstrous tree that towered above him. "So that's an oak tree."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed, turning to Dean. "Pick me up."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The branches are too tall for me to reach." Cas said. "Lift me up."

Dean looked up and then back at the ex-angel, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You just want to climb the tree, don't you?"

Cas rolled his eyes.

"Dean, we need a strong branch of Oak to defeat the Roman Goddess who is capturing and burying people alive."

"And you really want to climb the tree."

Cas glared at him before deflating.

"Yes." he said in a small, embarrassed voice.

Dean chuckled, and stroked him lovingly on the cheek.

"You're adorable."

Cas' lips turned up in a small smile.

"Okay." Dean said, bending his knees and interlocking his fingers, holding them out, "Get on."

Cas put his hands on Dean's shoulders and one of his feet in Dean's joined hands, lifting himself up. Grabbing hold of the tree trunk for stability, he lifted the other foot to Dean's shoulder.

"Hmmm, I like the view from here." Dean leered as Cas climbed up him like a cat.

Cas rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the lowest branch, pulling himself up until he sat astride it.

"This was much quicker and easier when I had wings." he commented as he stood on the branch and began climbing up the tree, using the flashlight Dean had pulled from the trunk of the Impala to find a suitable branch for their purpose.

"Oh admit it, you love it." Dean shot back. He glanced around and caught sight of a drugstore across the street, "Hey, I'm just gonna go grab something! I'll be right back!"

"Dean?" Cas shouted back as Dean headed away, "Dean!", but Dean was already halfway across the road. Cas frowned, wondering what the hunter was up to.

…

Sam shut his laptop with a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing!"

Jody looked up from her computer.

"You know there is still one resource."

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Logically he knew that Crowley was their best bet on finding out how to beat Vesta and, given the events of the past two weeks, he knew the former demon was unlikely to lie to them, but still.

"…All right." he said with a resigned sigh, picking up his phone and dialling.

…

Crowley was bored. Kevin still refused to occupy the same room as him, and had sequestered himself in his room. Linda was less hostile in her dislike of him, but she still avoided his company which, considering he had first possessed her and then imprisoned and tortured her, made total sense. And with Moose and Squirrel and Squirrel's pet angel gone, Crowley had nothing to do except peruse the titles on the shelves, looking for something new, something exciting…something that would block out the thoughts that crept inside in the oppressive silence of the sparsely occupied bunker.

His eye caught sight of the white bandage that peeked out from the sleeve of the shirt he wore, bright against the black cloth. He pulled the sleeve down, banishing the reminder of his moment of weakness. He had been sincere when he'd promised the giant Winchester that he wouldn't try again. Quite apart from the fact that he didn't want to go through the pain of splitting his skin open again, he had given it some concerted thought and decided that, while he knew he was hell bound, he may as well stick around for as long as he could and see if he couldn't maybe do some good with the time left to him. He was under no illusions that he could change his fate, but perhaps it would ease the knot of guilt that was eating away inside him. Maybe he could do it for Gavin, who had died believing his father was a no-good, abusive ass.

His phone interrupted his thoughts and Crowley glanced at it, surprised to see that it was Sam Winchester calling.

"Moose." He answered. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We…need your help." came the terse response.

Crowley rolled his eyes and plunked himself down in his chair.

"Well, try not to sound too ecstatic."

An aggravated sigh sounded down the line.

"What can I help you with?" Crowley asked, taking pity on the overgrown Winchester.

"What do you know about the Roman Goddess Vesta?"

Crowley scoffed.

"You're not dealing with that stuck up bitch, are you? _God,_ she was boring at parties."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you know how to summon her and/or trap her?"

…

Dean and Cas returned to the news that they now knew how to trap Vesta, but were unable to summon her since they had neither the requisite ingredients nor any way of obtaining them.

"Well," Dean said contemplatively, "We do have one sure-fire way of getting her here."

Sam frowned.

"She's taking people who break their vow, right?"

Sam's frown deepened.

"You want me to go out and get lucky?" he asked.

"No! Well, actually yeah, you could do with a good lay, but in this situation, no." Dean turned to Cas and sent him a significant glance

Sam glanced between Dean and Cas, realization dawning on his face.

"Ohhhhh." he said softly, turning away when the moment started to get awkward. Cas turned to Dean.

"Dean what are you—?" Cas started to say in a voice that warned Dean to step lightly.

"Listen, Cas." Dean said, holding his hands up, "We need to get Vesta here and this is the easiest way of doing it."

Sam and Jody exchanged looks as Cas' expression darkened.

"We're just gonna, um…" Jody trailed off as she grabbed her coat and purse and gestured to the door, moving swiftly to the exit followed by Sam, who shut the door quickly behind them.

"The easiest way of doing it?" Cas asked quietly, his tone vitriolic.

Dean shrugged. "Well I just…" he trailed off lamely as Cas turned, fists clenching as he fought to control his temper.

"Is that all this is to you Dean? Something that can be entered into casually? That can be spoken about in such off hand terms?"

Dean ducked his head in shame. Why did he have to say that? Why did he always go and mess it up? It had been going so well; why did he always end up saying the wrong thing?

"No, Cas, I—"

But Cas wasn't finished.

"Because it isn't for me, Dean. If we are to do this, I want it to be intimate, loving, caring. A connection of souls as much as a connection of bodies. A celebration of true, human intimacy and not something to be entered into lightly. I thought you wanted that. I thought that was what we were working on, but was that even what you meant? Or did you just want some casual fuck that you can just bang and leave? No feelings, no love, just adios! Is that what you wanted?"

Castiel's voice rose to a crescendo as he became more and more incensed. He even swore. Cas never swore.

"Cas, no, I—"

"How could you speak about this, _us_ in such a casual manner? Especially after everything you have been through? You can barely stand to let me touch you without breaking down and now it's all 'well, if it solves the case then I guess we'd better get on with it'! Well, you know what?! I don't just 'want to get on with it'!"

"Well then what do you want?!" Dean retorted, not entirely sure why he was shouting, only knowing that he was confused and angry with himself, and he hated that Cas was shouting at him.

"I want you!" Cas yelled back.

"But you don't want to have sex with me?"

"I don't want that to be all our relationship is based on!"

"BUT WHAT IF THAT'S ALL THAT I'M GOOD FOR?!"

Silence fell as the two men stood panting from their screaming match, Castiel's anger dying as horror took over at Dean's words.

Dean seemed to deflate, dropping down onto the bed, his head in his hands. Castiel sat down slowly beside him and reached out to rest a comforting hand on Dean's tense shoulder. Dean threw it off with an angry gesture.

"Dean." Cas said softly. He could see Dean's shoulders shaking and when the man drew his hands down his face and sat back with a deep inhale of breath, his red rimed eyes gave him away. "Dean."

"What?" The words were laced with venom as he spat them out. He sighed, pain replacing the anger in his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Cas."

This time Dean let Castiel place a hand on his shoulder as an unspoken show of support.

"Dean, do you really believe what you just said?"

Dean chewed idly on his lower lip.

"My dad called me a whore that night." Dean spoke the words softly, barely a whisper, as though he was afraid of them. "What if he was right?"

Fury burned within the former angel.

"Nothing your father did that night was right."

Dean considered the words.

"Then why'd he do it?" he asked in a small, soft voice, turning to look at the man, eyes sad and scared and oh-so young.

Castiel wished he had a good answer for the hunter who looked so hurt and betrayed.

"I don't know." he said in a gruff voice.

"I'm scared, Cas." Dean whispered

"What are you scared of?"

Dean fidgeted.

"I'm scared of you leaving." he admitted finally.

"Dean, I told you I would never leave." Cas assured him.

Dean looked up with fearful green eyes.

"But if I can't…If we never…what if you get tired of waiting? I mean, what would you have to stay for?"

A pained look crossed Castiel's face as Dean voiced the questions.

"You." he said, hoping Dean would understand, but instead he continued to frown.

"But why? I mean, if I can't—"

"Dean." Cas said, interrupting him. "If we never had sex, if you were never able to do that, I would still stay."

"But why?" It came out almost as a whisper and it broke Cas' heart to hear Dean so confused and insecure.

"Because I love you, Dean."

Dean stared incredulously.

Castiel cocked his head.

"After all this time, after everything we have been though, are you truly still shocked by the idea that I, that anyone, might love you?"

Dean's head hung in shame, unable to deny the truth in Castiel's words. Cas reached out and, with one hand, gently lifted the other man's chin.

"I guess I will just have to spend the rest of my life convincing you otherwise." he said softly before moving in for a kiss.

…

"You know, for being born again today, you sure look like crap."

Jody and Sam were seated on the hood of the Impala, waiting for Dean and Cas to finish their lover's spat.

Sam smiled and yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. A thought occurred to him and he frowned.

"Wait a second. Did you…get—?" he trailed off and Jody raised her eyebrows in shock.

"Born again?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

She chuckled.

"Oh Sam. I don't make promises I can't keep." Jody shrugged, "It's just, I enjoy church. I mean, after…after Bobby, Crowley… I needed something that made sense to me. You know, comfort I guess."

Sam nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I guess we're all looking for that."

"Except those that got it."

Sam frowned.

"Come on. You and Dean? That's something special, don't you think?"

Sam considered the words.

"If by special you mean 'dangerously co-dependent', then sure."

Jody shook her head.

"You don't understand. The level of trust you guys have in each other? That's rare. I mean, so it's not the healthiest relationship, so what? At least it's based on love, not hate. And at least it means you'll never be lonely."

Sam looked pensive.

"I've never thought about it that way."

"So, what the hell happened between Dean and your father?" she asked changing the subject.

Sam sighed and seemed to deflate a little, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

"I only found out about it a couple of years ago. Cas was, well, dead and Dean was pretty upset, and I guess he just couldn't hold it in anymore."

"So your dad never did anything to you?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. I mean, I never got along with the guy. We butted heads a lot when I was growing up and I pretty much hated him by the time I went off to college. But then he gave his life to save Dean and I…I mourned him as a hero. And Dean always sang his praises. Dean followed him blindly. Dean did everything he asked without question. And it always pissed me off so much. And then to find out he did that to him and more? Dean said Dad beat him too and he still obeyed every order." Sam shook his head. "And I know why Dean did it too, and that…that's what makes it so much worse."

"Why?" she asked. "What was the reason?"

Sam looked at her, his eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"Me." he said softly, "Because he didn't, _couldn't_ let anything happen to me. Couldn't let anything hurt me. So he just took it. Everything. He just accepted it. Hid it. Didn't tell anyone. Even when he was given the chance to get away he didn't take it. 'Cause I needed to be protected."

Jody sighed.

"Sam, you know none of that was your fault."

"I should have known." he said, his voice breaking as he voiced the thoughts that had haunted him since he discovered what had happened to his brother, "I should have come home sooner, or seen something, some sign that things weren't all right. I should have thanked Dean more for everything he did instead of blaming him for the things he didn't. I should have gotten Dean to come with me when I ran away instead of going on my own. I should have called him when I went off to Stanford instead of blaming him for siding with dad. I should have _seen_."

Tears were trickling down his face now and Jody slung an arm around his broad shoulders, pulling him in.

"No, you shouldn't." she said softly. "You shouldn't have had to do any of that. Just like Dean shouldn't have had to hide it or gone through it at all. All of this is on your father. None of it is on either of you."

"I just wish I could have done something."

Jody sighed.

"Everyone wishes they could have done more." she said wistfully. "All that means is that your heart's in the right place."

Sam looked at her and smiled slightly through his tears.

"Thanks."

…

Dean and Cas broke away, breathing heavily and leaning against each other, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.

"You know, we still need a way to get to Vesta and those people." Dean said, sitting back. He shrugged. "I mean, I guess we could always send Sam out to pick up a chick, but—"

"There is an easier way, you know." Cas said.

Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Vesta requires people to pledge themselves to her." he said meaningfully. "To pledge their chastity."

He gave Dean a significant look.

Dean's eyes went wide.

"You think…?"

He shrugged.

"It makes the most sense under the circumstances. What do we have to lose?"

Dean grinned and swooped in, pressing his lips to Cas' and kissing him soundly.

"You are a genius." he said, cupping the former angel's cheeks before standing and grabbing the oak branch. "Here, rub some of your virginal blood on that." he said, moving towards the door. "Let's go catch us a goddess."

…

Bonny did turn out to be Vesta, and after tailing her to the site where she had imprisoned her victims, Sam sprung the trap on her, which overall could have gone better as Jody would comment later at the ER as she had the hole in her shoulder patched and a sling fitted.

After a good night's sleep, which Sam was assured by Dean a multitude of times would be PG given that the motel was fully booked and the three men were forced to share a room, Jody slung her bag over her uninjured shoulder and turned to the two hunters and the one fallen angel.

"Heading out?" Sam asked.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I'd tell you boys to stay out of trouble, but what's the point?"

Sam and Dean swooped in for hugs.

"Thanks, Jody." Dean said sincerely. "For everything. Not just saving the day."

She smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Take care, Dean." She glanced over at Cas. "And hang on to this one. Angel or not, he's good for you."

Dean looked over at Cas with what he knew was probably a stupid, dopey grin but what the hell.

"Yeah, I know." he agreed.

"And you." she said, pointing at Cas. "Take care of my boys here."

Castiel smiled and nodded.

"I will try."

Jody smiled and pulled Cas in for a hug, which he tentatively reciprocated, still not quite comfortable with physical displays of affection from any one other than Dean and perhaps Sam.

"Don't get the door for me or anything." she teased as she moved to leave. "Oh, and Dean." she said, turning in the doorframe, "You won't forget…"

Dean nodded.

"I'll pass it along."

She smiled and shut the motel room door. Dean turned to find Sam and Cas giving him questioning looks.

"She gave me a letter to deliver."

…

Back at the bunker Dean stood in front of Crowley's door. He had so far avoided the former demon as much as possible, especially after his recent activities, but a promise was a promise so Dean squared his shoulders and knocked firmly on the door, opening it and stepping inside when he was invited.

Crowley looked up from his book, room much tidier and more organized that it had been the last time Dean had been in it, granted that had been a different room. His eyebrows rose at the sight of the evasive older Winchester.

"Well, well, well. The prodigal son. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dean squared his jaw and held out the letter, the name Crowley scrawled in Jody's neat hand on the front.

"This is for you." he said tersely, stepping forward so the man could take it.

Crowley accepted the letter, staring at it as though it were some rare treasure.

Dean turned to leave but Crowley stopped him.

"Thank you, Dean." he said meaningfully.

Dean turned back. He nodded brusquely and moved to leave, reaching the door before turning again.

"I know it can't be easy." he said, voice tight as though he was having to force the words out.

Crowley frowned up at him, more surprise at the gruff hunter speaking to him at all than confusion at what he was saying.

"That first year after hell was…hard. I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

Crowley looked at him warily.

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, baffled by the uncharacteristic behaviour.

Dean sighed and bit his lip, resting his hands on his hips, clearly as uncomfortable with the situation as Crowley was.

"Because I've been there. In that deep dark pit that seems to suck everything away until all that's left is a desire for it to be over."

Crowley raised an interested eyebrow, but said nothing.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Just don't try it again, you hear?"

Crowley nodded.

"I don't have plans to dispatch myself from this world anytime soon."

Dean nodded.

"Good. Cause it was hell to get the blood out of the sheets the last time."

And with that he left the former demon alone with the letter and a head full of questions about Dean Winchester.

…

Dean was already in bed, hands clasped and arms wrapped around bent knees, by the time Cas came back from the bathroom.

Dean still couldn't quite get over the look of Cas in soft flannel pants and his old ratty t-shirts that Cas always insisted on wearing, despite having his own.

He smiled up at him and Cas smiled back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and turning to face him.

"I'm sorry." Dean said softly, averting his eyes and staring down at the comforter.

Cas put a hand on his knee

"It's okay, Dean." he assured. "I know that you are still healing from what your father did to you. Just know that I am here, regardless of whether or not you feel comfortable pursuing a sexual relationship."

Dean smiled at Castiel's formal way of speaking, and covered the hand that sat on his knee with his own before leaning in and pressing his lips to Cas'.

The kiss began softly, sweetly; a gentle touch of lips that sparked far more sensations than such a small gesture ought to. Dean sucked a breath in though his nose and brought a hand up to tangle in Castiel's short, dark hair, tilting his head and pushing ever so slightly, moaning as Cas responded in kind. Dean pulled back, using the hand that was in Cas' hair to guide the man along with him until he was lying back against the pillows with Cas hovering above him.

Dean broke away from the kiss, both men gasping as they stared into each other's eyes.

"Cas…" Dean said breathlessly, "I want you."

Cas looked unsure.

"Dean—"

"Cas, please." Dean interrupted. "I want to do this, I need to do it."

"Why, Dean?" Cas said, temper on the verge of flaring again. "To prove that you can? To prove yourself to your father?"

Dean shook his head.

"No, not to prove anything. To show you."

"Show me what?"

Dean looked intently into Castiel's vivid blue eyes.

"How I feel. How much I love you."

Cas still looked apprehensive.

"I don't know, Dean."

"I don't want to have sex with you, Cas."

Castiel frowned, wondering if he had perhaps misread the situation.

"I want to make love to you." Dean was surprised he had actually managed to get those words out, but in the moment they had just felt right. "I want a connection. No adios." When Cas still looked uncertain, he continued. "And I want, no, I _need_ to do this. Not because of my father or because we need to capture a virginity Goddess or even just to prove to you how I feel, I…I need to do it for me. Because when I signed that pledge yesterday, I did feel like I was letting go. I did feel like I was wiping my slate clean." He sighed and shook his head. "For as long as I can remember the…memory of what my dad did was there every time I had sex. But here, now, finally it's just us. And I'm not doing this to prove a point or to show that I can. I'm doing because I want it. Because it's my choice."

Cas considered Dean's plea. Perhaps he was being overly cautious. Perhaps Dean didn't need time. Perhaps he just needed for it to be his decision.

"I still don't think this is particularly healthy."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Since when is anything I do particularly healthy?"

"True." Cas agreed. He chewed on his bottom lip as he considered. "Okay."

Dean grinned and went in for another kiss.

Cas pressed gently against his chest and they broke away.

"But if you feel you need to stop, for any reason, you tell me. All right?"

Dean nodded.

"All right."

"Promise?"

Dean's expression went serious.

"I promise."

Cas still looked wary.

"I'll say 'Poughkeepsie', okay?"

Cas frowned.

"It's my and Sam's safe word. It means cut and run."

Cas nodded.

"Poughkeepsie. Got it."

Dean smiled.

"Okay?"

Cas responded with a smile of his own.

"Okay."

Dean leant up and captured Castiel's lips in a searing kiss, grabbing hold of Cas' hips and pulling him in, moving slightly against him as he slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth, shivering with sensation as he rocked against the angel above him.

Cas moaned into his mouth, and Dean's arms moved up and around him, hands splaying out against strong muscle and then tightening into fists, grabbing at the soft cotton of his t-shirt. A wave of pleasure swept through his body as Dean rutted against him.

Cas rolled into his side, Dean moving with him attached as they were at the mouth. Dean broke away and began trailing kisses across Castiel's clean-shaven cheek, finding the sweet spot beneath his ear and smiling against the skin when Cas made his pleasure known in an obscenely vocal way.

Cas trailed his hand down Dean's back, hesitating slightly before reaching lower and pawing at Dean's firm backside. Dean moaned and Cas looked down, locking eyes with the hunter and sending him a meaningful look.

"I'm good." he said, his voice rough, his pupils blown wide with pleasure.

Cas dipped down and brought his lips once again to Dean's, letting out a surprised sound as Dean reached down and brushed his hand against Cas, smiling against his lips at the sound.

They continued, kissing and caressing, exploring; a tangled mass of gasps and limbs and sweat and smiles. Dean produced the items he had bought at the drugstore while Castiel had been procuring the oak branch, and he guided Cas as they positioned themselves until Dean was lying on his back, hips raised on a pillow and Cas was hovering over him, a hesitant, almost scared look on his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked, nervous despite the fact that Dean had made it this far without any sign of breaking down.

Dean looked up at him, his face relaxed and smiling, eyes crinkling in that way that Cas loved so much because it meant that Dean was truly smiling, and he looked at Cas like Cas was the entire world.

He raised his hand and brushed it through the fallen angel's dark hair, running the pad of his thumb gently over his cheek. Cas brought his own hand up to cover it, long, gentle fingers curling around Dean's.

"I've never been more sure of anything." he said, quiet but certain.

Cas smiled at the love he could see radiating from every fibre of the hunter's being.

A thought seemed to occur to Dean.

"Are _you_ sure?"

Castiel smiled and took Dean's hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing.

"I have been ready since I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." he said in his low, gruff voice. He was looking down on Dean with an intensity in his eyes, his hair mussed from Dean running his fingers through it, and he looked so much like he did that first night in that barn that Dean half expected a flash of light to cast the monstrous shadows of his wings on the walls behind them. But there was no flash of light, only Cas, lowering his face down for one last sweet kiss before kneeling back and uncapping the small bottle.

Dean had been truthful when he said he was sure, but there was still a part of him that was nervous. He had lived this moment over and over for nearly two decades and it never ended well, not in his imagination. Cas pushed a finger in and Dean prepared himself for pain that never came. Idly he realized that he had closed his eyes and opened them to find Cas hovering above him, calling his name.

"Dean? Are you all right? Dean?"

Dean looked back at him and smiled, nodding, relaxing at the sight of one of the few people he trusted the most hovering above him with concern shining in his deep blue eyes.

"Yeah." he said. "I'm fine."

Cas paused and then nodded, pushing another finger in and Dean relaxed, looking up at the angel and focusing entirely on him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed except them in this moment. Castiel's fingers brushed against something inside him and Dean gasped as a jolt of pleasure shot through him and he leaned back into the pillows as he rode the wave.

"Dean?" Cas asked as he continued to prep the hunter, his perfect recall coming in handy as he thought back to the information he's gleaned from the web on how to do this. That had certainly been an interesting Internet search.

Dean fought to catch his breath.

"That didn't happen last time." he said idly with a smile as Cas prepared himself.

They locked eyes and Cas reached for Dean's hand, squeezing as he pushed himself in.

The feeling was like nothing he ever imagined. Primal urge took over as heat surrounded him and suddenly he knew what he had to do. He kept his eyes locked on Dean's as he pulled out and then pushed in again, careful to go slow as he focused on the other hunter, gauging his reaction and ready for any sign that he should stop. But Dean showed no signs of distress. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he threw his head back, eyes closed, expression blissful as Cas took him in hand, stroking to the rhythm of his own, innate movements.

The pressure built and built until, without conscious thought or purpose, Cas threw his head back, eyes closing, face contorted in ecstasy as the pleasure came to a climax and his orgasm hit and he lost all control. He was dimly aware of Dean clenching around him as he rode the wave of his own orgasm and Cas forced his gaze down to see him, head thrown back against the pillows, and he watched as Dean let go, allowing raw, primal emotion to show on his face. His eyes cracked open and their eyes met. Cas still held Dean's hand in his own and he squeezed it as their movements slowed and Cas finally pulled out, panting and sagging in the aftermath. He heard a chuckle and Cas looked at Dean, whose face was split into a grin.

"Well, what did you think?" he asked.

Cas stared at him as he worked to get his mouth back up and running. In the meantime he nodded.

"I greatly enjoyed that."

Dean laughed again and reached up to run his hands over Cas' smooth chest, fingers skimming over the now-healed ribs and the ink of his warding tattoo.

"Yeah, it's pretty great."

Castiel reached over to the side table for the tissue box and grabbed a few, wiping away the remnants of their lovemaking before looking back at Dean.

"How was it for you?"

Dean, who had been watching Cas' movements hypnotically, snapped back to attention and he looked up and smiled.

"It was amazing." he said, voice catching in his throat as he fought to stay in control. His body was still teeming with emotions and he could feel the tears surge. Really? He was going to cry after sex now? Come on, Dean, you've done enough crying over the past few weeks. Get it together.

But despite the internal pep talk, he still felt the painful lump form in his throat. Cas slid off his lap, coming down to lie beside him, taking Dean's head in his strong hands and looking at him in concern.

"Dean? Dean. What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? I _knew_I should have stopped this, I shouldn't have—"

Dean grabbed his hands, which were dancing agitatedly over his cheeks and through his hair, and smiled through the tears.

"No, Cas." He said in a choked voice. "It was perfect. Amazing. It was exactly how it should have been."

His voice cut off and Cas, realizing that the tears were cathartic, pulled Dean's head over to rest in the crook of his neck, allowing the hunter to cry quietly into his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles into his back.

Dean finished and moved back, wiping away the treacherous tears and apologizing for his behaviour.

"I'm sorry." he laughed, a pathetic attempt to hide the breakdown.

"Don't be." Cas said softly.

Dean sniffed, "I'm just so sick of this. All these tears, they're so stupid."

Cas frowned.

"They are a genuine expression of how you feel." he said. "Why would that be considered stupid? And why would you want to hide it?"

Dean felt his cheeks burn and he shrugged.

"Crying after sex, not exactly the most endearing quality in a person."

Cas lifted his chin, forcing Dean's gaze up to meet his own.

"Dean, you're recovering from a trauma. This…experience was a big deal for you. A big step towards recovery from what happened. It is perfectly reasonable for your emotions to be heightened." He kissed Dean, long and hard, trying to express all that he could not find the words to in that one simple gesture. "I'm so proud of you." he whispered against the hunter's full lips. He felt Dean smile against him and move in close, seeking out warmth and comfort.

"Thanks, Cas." he whispered back, feeling the pull of sleep as his body succumbed to post-coital exhaustion. Cas reached back to turn off the light and gathered Dean in his arms, letting his eyes fall closed, a contented smile on his face.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing.

I figured the boys (and you guys) deserved some fluff after all the angst so here you go.

Enjoy!

...

Sam rushed through the halls of the bunker, tearing around corners and skidding into the main room, heading for the library. Entering, he glanced around, searching for Dean and Cas who were not in the gym nor the gun range nor their bedroom nor any other place he had searched so far.

Movement caught the corner of his eye and he rounded a column to peer into one of the alcoves where a solitary lamp was lit. Castiel was sitting on a couch set back in the corner between the bookshelves, dressed in sweatpants and a loose cotton Black Sabbath T-shirt - one of Dean's. He held a book up in one hand, eyes skimming the pages as his other hand carded through the hair of Dean who lay sleeping, stretched out over the length of the couch, head resting in Cas' lap, a small smile playing on his lips.

Despite his haste, Sam paused for a moment to take in the sight. Domesticity had never been a big part of their lives, but ever since the former angel had shown up at the bunker, Dean and Cas had fallen into a comfortable routine so different from their previous, world-saving, nomadic existence.

Dean was calm, content. The quick smile that Sam remembered from childhood which had been slowly fading over the years was back, as was his laugh. His eyes were brighter and held none of the world-weary exhaustion that had been present since his resurrection at Castiel's hand, and further amplified by the harsh year spent fighting for his life in purgatory. He had also been drinking less; no longer putting away a bottle of whiskey a night and Sam found himself affected by his brother's new, more relaxed attitude. It was true that Sam hadn't been particularly receptive to the idea of the bunker as their home, but recently he had begun to settle in. He had even decorated his room, hanging up the few photos he had of the two of them.

It still kept him awake some nights though, the fear that as soon as he let his guard down, as soon as he let himself call this place home, that something would happen and they would have to leave again, get back in the car and drive away from yet another missed opportunity at some permanency. As a child it had been all he had longed for. He relished the memories of the times spent in proper houses, the month-long stretches where they would stay put in one house and one town and one school. At first he had been naïve enough to think that that would be it, that that was where they would stay and he wouldn't have to shove his life into a duffle bag again and watch as that part of himself disappeared out the back window of the Impala as they skipped town. It had never seemed to bother Dean but then, Dean had memories of a happy home, with his own room and toys and someone to cut the crusts off his bread. Their father had always refused to do that; it was a waste of food that they couldn't afford, but all Sam had wanted growing up had been a home.

When he had finally gotten to Stanford, he had found an apartment and stayed there, determined that he wouldn't leave until he absolutely had to. But that decision had been made for him when Jessica had died screaming on the ceiling and the flames that claimed her also claimed the first place he had allowed himself to call home.

And it had only gotten worse since then. Constantly on the run, constantly moving. Even Bobby's house went eventually, and after Amelia…It just hurt too much and he didn't want to put himself through the pain.

But then he thought of Dean and how strong he had been the past few months, years; trying to heal from what their father had done to him. How hard it must have been for him to open himself up to Cas, to expose his abused heart to the possibility of more pain. And yet he had done it and Sam felt awed and inspired by his brother's strength, as he had always been.

He remembered the first time his father had handed him a shotgun. How heavy it had been and how clumsy he had felt holding it. He remembered his father's terse instructions, his gruff voice making him more and more nervous and afraid of getting it wrong, of doing something stupid, until the weapon was shaking in his grasp and John Winchester's infamous temper had all but exploded. He remembered how Dean had stepped forward, placing his steady hands over Sam's quaking ones, still too small to even hold the gun properly, and guiding it into position, showing him that he could do it and holding on until his grip was as steady as his older brother's. Dean had always been there for Sam, not only as a surrogate parent and protector, but as a role model for what Sam wanted to be when he grew up.

Dean had always been his strength and, if he could overcome his fears, Sam could damn well do the same.

Castiel looked up from his book, taking in Sam's heavy breathing as he worked to catch his breath from his mad dash through the bunker. His eyes squinted and brow furrowed in a silent inquiry.

"Something's happened." Sam said softly.

Cas considered the hunter's serious tone and set aside his book, gently shaking the older Winchester awake.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean let out a sleepy moan and he shifted in his supine position on the couch.

"Dean." Cas tried again, shaking his shoulder once more. "Sam has something to tell us."

"Wha—?" he asked, eyes cracking open, taking in his partner hovering over him and his brother standing a few feet away. "Wuzzat?"

It occurred to Sam that it didn't normally take Dean this long to wake up. He had always been a light sleeper and had a remarkable ability to snap from sleep to waking in a matter of seconds. Sam had always assumed it was Dean's natural state but he was beginning to suspect it was yet another fallout from their father's puritanical child-raising methods.

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up; hair standing on end from the brushing it had received at Castiel's hand. Cas smiled endearingly at it and reached out, smoothing it down as Dean yawned widely.

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked as Sam grabbed a chair and took a seat.

"There's been an incident. A massacre in a biker bar in Wyoming. Police reports say there are what look like wing marks burned into the ground for each victim."

"Angels killing angels." Cas whispered, his shoulders sagging and his eyes growing sad at the news.

"'Fraid so." Sam said. "I'm sorry Cas."

Dean put a hand on Castiel's shoulder as the angel let his head fall into his hands.

"I thought things were all quiet on the angel front." Dean said as he continued to rub soothing circles into Cas' back. "Even that Buddy Boyle guy is off the air."

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe it's the calm before the storm?" he offered.

"They are grouping into factions, warring amongst themselves." Cas said, raising his face and resting his chin on his clasped hands. "It is as I had feared."

Dean nodded.

"All right, well, we may as well go check it out, get as much intel as we can. If we're lucky we might even be able to figure out who's behind it all."

An hour later Dean and Sam were checking their weapons as they finished packing, ready to head out.

Castiel came around the corner, holding a blue and silver striped tie in one hand.

"Dean, can you help me tie this? I don't seem to be able to get the hang of it."

Dean looked up to see Cas dressed in the suit he'd bought him in the department store on his first day in the bunker.

"Cas, what are you doing?"

Cas looked down, hoping he had put the clothes on properly. Seeing nothing obviously amiss, he looked back up and frowned.

"Suiting up. We are going in as Federal Officers are we not? I still have the badge you gave me." he said, fishing it out of his inner breast pocket.

He had managed to hang onto it through everything. He had kept it in the pocket of his trench coat when Dean had given it back to him, along with a photo of the two Winchester brothers he had kept, despite having an eidetic memory of the two men. It had warmed him to look at it, a confusing show of sentimentality, but one which he had nonetheless bowed to. It and the badge, along with the memories they embodied, had kept him going in purgatory and his time spent on the run from Naomi and on the sleepless nights in his first week of being human when everything else was strange and cold and unfamiliar.

Dean continued to stare at him.

"Yeah Cas, but what are you doing in a suit at all? You're not thinking of coming with us, are you? I mean, this isn't a simple salt and burn or a rogue goddess, this is an angel situation. Last we checked they were gunning for you. Don't you think you'll be safer here?"

Castiel's frown deepened and he replaced the badge, sighing deeply.

"If angels are slaughtering one another I have to do what I can to help, Dean." he said emphatically. "I can't just sit idly by no matter how scared I may be. This is partly my fault and it's a risk I should be willing to take to help my brothers."

Dean looked to Sam, who shrugged. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine." he said, moving over and snatching the tie from his hand and threading it around his neck and under the collar of his dress shirt. "You know you really should learn how to do this yourself." he commented as he knotted it quickly and efficiently.

Tightening the knot and straightening everything, Dean couldn't deny that he liked Cas back in a suit, especially one that fit and brought out his eyes. He cleared his throat and pulled back as he realized that his hands had lingered on the ex-angel's firm chest longer than he'd planned and he looked over to see Sam smirking at him.

"Shut up."

Cas held out his hands.

"What do you think?"

Dean shrugged.

"Eh, it'll do." he said, not willing to admit what he was actually thinking in front of his brother.

Sam seemed to be trying to contain laughter at Cas' childishly excited expression.

"Agent." he greeted.

Cas smiled.

"Agent." he threw back.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"God, you guys are dorks." he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey," Cas said and Dean turned back, "Cas is back in town."

Dean looked between his partner's exuberant expression and Sam who was desperately trying to contain his mirth.

"Seriously did you—did he just say that?"

…

The crime scene was in disarray.

"These angels were…butchered." Cas said, looking over the photos as the police milled around them. "Much more violence than is required."

Sam took the file from Cas and looked it over, before perusing the scene.

"Definitely took more than one or two killers to pull this off." he agreed, taking in the scorched wing marks; much smaller than those of other angels he'd seen, a sign of their low ranking as Cas had explained.

"Hit squad?" Dean suggested. "You mentioned warring factions." he said to Cas.

"It is certainly possible. Angels were not built to lead, they were created to follow; to take orders. Heaven has been in disarray for so long. Between Raphael and Naomi and…me." He sighed and shook his head, "And now being stranded on earth, wingless and separated. Angels are happiest when they have a purpose to serve, regardless of what that purpose is. If a few select angels with enough ambition were to take charge, the others would follow willingly."

Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Okay, so we got an angelic turf war on our hands and no idea who's behind it." He turned to Cas. "You still tuned into angel radio?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed.

"Yes. But I've been blocking it out." he said softly.

Dean frowned.

"What? Why? This could help us, Cas!"

Cas closed his eyes.

"It was too painful."

Dean paused.

"What do you mean?"

Cas looked at him, pain shining through his blue eyes.

"They were so confused. Scared. Lost. And there was nothing I could do. I helped bring it about and yet I was powerless to fix it." He closed his eyes again in shame. "I tuned it out because I couldn't listen to their cries anymore."

Dean sighed and rested his hand on his back.

"It wasn't your fault Cas." he said softly. "That was all Metatron. And we'll make him pay. You'll see."

Cas shook his head.

"I was a fool. I should have—"

"Don't." Dean said sharply, cutting him off. Cas looked up. "Don't do that."

The stared at each other for a moment before Cas nodded resignedly.

"Okay. Well," Dean said, changing the subject, "we can't do much else from here. Let's go get a bite or something and come up with a game plan.

…

Sam, Cas and Dean retired to a nearby bar to discuss the case.

"You know, Cas, are you sure you're ready to jump back into all this? I mean, I know I've been dragging you along on cases but, this is angels, man." Dean didn't want to admit it, but he had been more than a little shaken by the violence of the crime scene they had just visited. These were the same angels who had been tracking Cas, who were out for his blood, who wanted to punish him for destroying heaven and use him to find a way to restore their home. Despite the Enochian warding, Dean was nervous bringing Cas so close to the fray. If anything happened to him…

"Hey." Cas answered, already a little tipsy from the one beer he was still working on, "You once told me that you don't choose what you do. It chooses you." He winked and Dean had to duck his head to keep from laughing out loud at his adorably tipsy boyfriend. "I'm a part of this." he said, clinking his bottle with Dean's. "Like it or not."

San nodded appreciatively

"All right, well, then, in that case, we have to figure out, uh, who are we up against, what do they want, and how do we stop them." Sam commented, taking a pull from his bottle of beer

"I suspect they are looking for a way to reverse Metatron's spell." Cas reasoned. "Perhaps with the intention of taking over heaven."

"Do you have any idea who might be behind either of these factions?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed and looked pensive.

"A few possibilities spring to mind," he said, "but speculation would be useless. We need information."

Dean nodded in agreement.

"All right," Sam said, "I'm gonna get us another round."

"Nah, I'll get it." Cas insisted, hopping off his stool and chugging the last of his beer, nearly overbalancing as he turned and set the empty bottle on the table, "You know, I've never done this." he said with excitement in his eyes.

Dean smiled after him.

"Lightweight." he said endearingly. He had so far never let Cas have more than one beer at a time ever since discovering that the newly-human angel had not retained his alcohol tolerance when he'd fallen.

Sam grinned as his brother's smitten look.

"So, how's it going between you two?" he asked.

Dean looked over and nodded.

"Good, good. Things are good." he answered succinctly.

Sam nodded and fiddled with the label of his empty bottle of beer.

"How's umm…you know…" He gestured vaguely and Dean frowned.

"How's what?"

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking and shook his head.

"You know what? Never mind, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business. Forget about it."

Dean raised an eyebrow and suppressed a grin at his brother's obvious discomfort.

"Are you trying to ask how our sex life is going?"

Sam's face coloured and he shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean I've been watching you two make moon eyes at each other for five years, half of which were spent assuming you were totally straight so…" he shrugged, "You can't blame me for being curious." He shook his head, "But I shouldn't have asked. Especially given…everything. It's your business and nobody else's and I'm sorry."

Dean drained the last sip from his bottle and glanced over where Cas was getting their round, grinning as he watched him lean against the bar and wave politely to someone, a goofy smile on his face. He turned back, setting the bottle down and playing with the label as he avoided his brother's eyes.

He cleared his throat.

"It's good." He glanced hesitantly up at his brother who looked back tentatively. "I…we uh…" he cleared his throat, "We had sex. And it was…" he nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he recalled the act, "It was perfect."

There was a pause before Sam cleared his throat and spoke, "That's awesome Dean."

Dean looked up again to see Sam smiling at him with distinctly misty eyes.

"I'm really happy for you. And proud of you. You deserve this."

Dean nodded, warmed by his brother's words. Despite being incredibly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, it felt good getting it out there, as though every word spoken out loud dissolved a little piece of the secret he'd been holding inside for so long, leaving him a little lighter each time.

"So we'll be getting separate motel rooms from now on then." Sam added.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely." Dean agreed.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments before Dean spoke up again.

"I'm really, really happy." He said it with a frown, as though he couldn't quite understand how it had happened.

Sam didn't know what to say to that, and luckily was saved by Cas coming back with the next round.

"Here we are, three brewskies." he said, setting them on the table and retaking his seat.

Dean stared at him with soft eyes and a small grin on his face, which he was sure looked totally stupid but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"What?" Cas asked as he settled on the barstool.

Dean shook his head.

"You're just adorable." he answered, grabbing one of the beers and taking a gulp.

Really, Dean ought to have stopped Cas at two beers but the man had managed to get hold of a bar menu, and was curious about all the different mixed drinks and their outrageous names, and if he was going to be human, then he really ought to know about these things. So Dean ordered Cas a strawberry Daiquiri, and by the time it arrived, the three men were beginning to attract the attention of a group of girls sitting a few tables away, one of whom eventually got up the courage to come over.

"Hey." she said, brown hair falling in soft curls down her back, her minimal make-up enhancing her naturally delicate features, "My friends and I are wondering if maybe you guys wanted to join us?" she asked coyly.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam who blushed and sputtered, before taking over.

"I'm sure my single brother here would love to join you." he said with his most charming smile.

She smiled.

"And what about you two?" she asked, eyeing Cas in a way that sparked a tiny chord of territorial possessiveness in Dean.

"Oh." he said, glancing at the man who looked nervous and out of his depth. "We're unfortunately taken." he said with a smile, taking Castiel's hand and intertwining their fingers. A small thrill of nerves shot through him and his heart rate picked up as the implications of what he'd just done hit him full force. This wasn't exactly the most progressive town in Wyoming, and announcing their relationship like this might not turn out to be such a good plan. And besides, was he even ready for the whole world to know about him and Cas? Close friends and Crowley were one thing, but random strangers?

The girl eyed their clasped hands and her eyes widened.

"Ohhhh, got it." She nodded and shrugged. "You could join us anyway. The more the merrier."

Dean started. That was it? Really? He looked at Cas, who was now nursing a long island iced tea and would probably not make it though another.

"We're probably gonna head out soon." he said. "But Sammy here is definitely up for some company."

Sam sent him a glare for the nickname before turning to the pretty brunette.

"It's Sam." he said, grabbing his drink and standing.

Dean could see her knees go weak when he reached his full height.

"Heather." She answered breathlessly as the two made their way back to her table. Before she sat down, she turned back and gave Dean and Cas a little wave. "It was nice to meet you two."

Dean gave them a wave and smirked, turning back to Cas who had his face propped up on his hand, and his arm and most of his upper torso resting on the table.

"That w's nice of you, Dean." he said, his words beginning to slur together. "You're a nice brother. And a nice b'yfrien'."

Dean chucked.

"Thanks, Cas."

Cas blinked at him.

"Am I a good b'yfrien'? 'S that even what we are? 'M very new to this, so I'm not sure."

"You're an excellent boyfriend." Dean assured him. "And yes I suppose that's what we are, although I don't really like that term."

"Why not?"

Dean shrugged.

"Because I sound like a teenage girl when I say it."

Cas nodded and nearly overbalanced.

"I un'erstand." he slid his glass closer to him and attempted to get the straw into his mouth. It took a few tries.

"All right." Dean said, finishing off his beer and standing, "It's time to get you to bed before I have to pour you into the car."

Cas slurped the last of his drink and sat up, nearly falling off his stool before Dean caught him.

"But I don' wanna go." he protested, swaying slightly. "I wanna try more drinks with strange names like…" he picked up the menu and squinted at it, "Fuzzy Navel." He looked back up at Dean who had grabbed the suit jacket Cas had shucked earlier, and was holding it out. And which Cas was ignoring, "Whas ina Fuzzy Navel, Dean?"

"I don't know, peach schnapps or something? Come on put your jacket on."

It took Cas a few tries to get his arm in the sleeve of the jacket, and once he had it on he stood and promptly fell into Dean.

"Dean." he said, hiccoughing as Dean steadied him, "Everythin's spinning."

"Yeah." Dean agreed, steering them towards the exit and receiving a smirk from Sam as he passed their table, "That's 'cause you're drunk, Cas."

"'M drunk?" he asked, stumbling over the front stoop of the bar. Dean reached out a hand to catch his fall.

"Yes." he confirmed, unlocking the passenger door of the Impala one-handed and settling him in the seat, before rounding the car and getting in behind the wheel. He turned to Cas, whose head was lolling back, resting against the top of the seatback. "If you feel like you're gonna puke, tell me immediately, because if you puke in the car, so help me…"

Cas pulled himself up and turned, staring, or attempting to stare, at Dean with serious, half-lidded eyes.

"I will endeav'r not t' vomit in your vehicle D'n." He said with all the resolve he could muster in his current state.

Dean smiled and caressed his cheek.

"Thanks, babe."

The endearment slipped from his mouth so easily it took him a few seconds to realize what he'd said.

"Wha' d'you jus' call me?" Cas asked, his brow furrowed.

Dean fought to keep his expression calm as his heart pounded against his chest.

"I just called you babe." he said, not really able to believe it himself.

It took a few seconds for Cas to register what he'd said, but when he did his face relaxed and his mouth spread into an easy grin.

"You called me babe?"

Dean nodded.

"I like that."

"Yeah?"

Cas nodded, the gesture sloppy and uncoordinated.

"Yessssss."

Dean nodded again.

"Okay." he said, turning and gunning the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and towards the closest motel.

Cas sat in silence for a few moments, staring up at Dean from where his head rested against the seat before speaking up.

"Will tha' be yer pet n'me f'r me?" he asked, his slurred words getting sloppy as he began to drift off. Dean prayed he wouldn't pass out before they got a room. Of course Cas would turn out to be a drowsy drunk.

"Do you want it to be?"

Cas considered the question before nodding.

"Okay then…babe." He tried it out again and looked over to see Cas grinning again.

"D'you want me t' give you one?"

Dean paled at the thought of what Cas might come up with.

"I dunno. I really like the way you say my name."

He glanced over again and Cas was trying to look serious again.

"Dean." he said, enouncing the name carefully, his voice low and gravelly like it had been the first time they'd met.

Heat shot through Dean at the sound, and he grinned.

"You like that?" Cas asked, his eyes burning with desire, and _holy crap_ was Cas flirting with him?

"Yeah." he said breathlessly, thanking someone when a motel with a vacancy sign appeared in the next block.

Cas was trying to get out of the car on his own by the time Dean came back with a room key.

He helped the sloshed man up and into the room, settling him on the bed where he fell backwards, splayed out.

"I c'n feel th' earth m'ving again, Dean." he commented as Dean came back with the bags.

"Again?" he asked as he fished a change of clothes out of the bag and moved over to the bed, pulling Cas back up into a sitting position as he started to pull off his clothes.

"I use t' be able t' feel it. Th' earth m've, orb'ting th' sun. Now I can' feel it anymore. Can' feel 'lot 'f thingssss." His head fell forward onto Dean's shoulder as Dean worked his shoes off. "Can' see 'lot 'f things either."

Dean unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it off, leaving him in his t-shirt as Cas continued to ramble drunkenly.

"But some things 're new. Like food. Food tas'es better now. 'N water. 'memer th' firs' time I had water af'er I fell. Tas'ed sooo gooooood."

Dean stripped off his dress pants, leaving him in just his shirt and boxers, and pulled him up, manoeuvring them over to the bathroom where he plunked Cas down on the closed toilet lid.

"You need to puke?" Dean asked.

Cas frowned in consideration as he listed back and forth before glancing up at the hunter.

"No." he said, shaking his head. Dean reached out a hand to grab him before he slid off.

Dean nodded and grabbed the angel's toothbrush, smearing some toothpaste on it and wetting it before handing it to Cas.

"Can you brush your teeth?"

Cas nodded and made a grab for the implement, which he missed. Dean grabbed his hand and put the toothbrush in it. Cas held it, staring at it before moving it towards his mouth and managing to get it in without too much trouble.

Dean went to get changed.

When he came back Cas was nodding off against the sink, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey." he said with a smile, sitting himself down on the edge of the tub

Cas looked over at him and grinned, and Dean grabbed the toothbrush before it could fall out.

"Open up." he said and Cas obeyed, allowing Dean to scrub his teeth. "Spit." He ordered, producing an empty glass, Cas obeyed. "Rinse." he said, handing him another glass, this one filled with water. Cas took a sip and then spat it out into the empty one. "All right, now drink the rest." he said, handing back the glass of water and standing to rinse out the glass before brushing his own teeth.

Once they were done, Dean helped Cas off the toilet and he promptly collapsed, boneless, into Dean's arms.

"Come on." he said encouragingly, guiding the nearly unconscious man to the bed. Cas moaned something unintelligible and Dean settled him under the covers, slipping in beside him.

"Go to sleep, Cas." Dean said softly.

Cas turned and burrowed in close, intertwining himself with Dean as though trying to merge their bodies together.

"L've you, Dean." he said almost unintelligibly.

Dean grinned and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I love you too, babe."


End file.
